No Longer Alone
by Pureauthor
Summary: /FE:TSS/ A young knight of Renais... A lonely girl from Grado... this is their story. /Franz x Amelia/
1. A Hint of Things to Come

No Longer Alone

* * *

Well, this marks my first foray into the world of Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones fanfiction. Here's to hoping I give you all a good read.

The primary pairing for this will be Franz x Amelia. Take a hint: If you don't like the pairing, _don't read this story._

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

_It was the scream that did it. Amelia had been sleeping peacefully, her mother downstairs, working quietly, trying to keep their small family in enough money to put bread on the table._

_She hadn't had the slightest idea when the brigands had come, from what direction, or even why. There was little of value in the sleepy village of Silva. Then again, maybe that had been why they had chosen this place. The Emperor wouldn't bother with the tracking down of a band that had destroyed a village worth so little._

_She assumed the band hadn't come quietly. But she didn't know. She had been in too deep a slumber to hear and shouts or crashes._

_But she had heard her mother's screams. It had jolted her out of bed, eyes wide, wondering what had happened._

_She had barely taken two steps towards the doorway of her room when she had heard the deep throaty voice of what had presumably been the head bandit. It had paralyzed her with fear. In the small town, she recognized most everyone's voice. The village baker with the thick bristling moustache and booming laugh, the farmers with calloused hands and their warm voices. This new voice wasn't like theirs- it seemed happy, but happy in a terrible new sense that was unfamiliar to the young girl._

_She had not yet learnt to recognize the voice of cruelty. All she knew was that it terrified her. She took one shaking step backwards, then turned and dived under the bed, shivering with fear._

_Later she would berate herself. Later she would cry anew to the endless stars as the stark unyielding fact that she had concealed herself while her mother screamed for help returned to haunt her a thousand sleepless nights._

_But for now, all she could think of was to hide. Hide somewhere, **anywhere**, where they would not be able to find her._

_The endless noise continued- the crash of furniture, the occasional whoop of delight as a thug found something he could sell off in the market, and worst of all, the weeping of her mother. Amelia screwed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears run down her cheeks. Hastily wiping her nose, she perked her ears at the faint sound of conversation._

"_Looks to be all, chief. We ain't gonna find anything else down here."_

"_Well, what about up there, then? Got any family treasures up there, woman? You better be honest if you know what's good for you, or, my word, you catch it!"_

"_There's… there's nothing left, you thieves." The weary sound of her mothers voice floated up. "You've taken everything I need for my livelihood. Leave. You'll find nothing else here."_

_There was a dull thud, and then a crash. Amelia bit her lip so hard blood flowed. Sobbing quietly, she tried to hush herself as voices floated up once more. Then there was the scream, a continuous wail that made Amelia half want to dash out and wrest her mother away and half want to curl up even tighter. She subconsciously chose the latter option and pulled her knees to her chest._

_The next few minutes were a blur, apart from Amelia realizing with absolute clarity that her mother's cries were getting fainter and fainter, until they simply vanished into the distance._

_She was also unsure about just how long she had spent cowering under the mattress, but she had finally plucked up enough courage to venture out. Slowly, cautiously, painfully aware that her attempts at being stealthy were failing rather miserably, she descended the steps, beholding the primary room of the house._

_Several pieces of paper fluttered lazily about in the slight breeze. What furniture that remained intact was strewn carelessly about. Dirt footprints covered the floor. The doorway was partially smashed._

"_M-mommy?" Amelia whispered as loud as she dared. No response._

"_Mommy?" Louder this time. Amelia's eyes darted about frantically as she wandered about the house, trying to locate her mother._

_Somewhere in the back of her mind, she began to recognize the awful possibility that her mother was no longer here._

"_MOMMY!" She howled as loud as she could as she scampered throughout the house, slamming open cupboards, yanking drawers out of their sockets, all the while frantically searching, clinging on to the desperate possibility that it had all been some kind of nightmare or cruel joke._

_Her crude searched turned up no one, and Amelia finally slumped onto the ground, exhausted, crying bitterly as she stared out the doorway at the dying rays of the sun._

_There was no one else here._

_She was alone._

* * *

Amelia drew in a deep breath as she gazed out at the blue of the summer sky. A melancholy smile on her face, she kicked at a stray pebble that lay on the road.

_It's been, what? Seven years, hasn't it?_ She had kept up with reports from the Empire as best she could, and from what could discern, the particular bandit group that had attacked their village had been eradicated.

Her mother had never been found.

"Amelia! There you are, lass!" She turned at the sound of a voice, and her smile changed from sad to happy as she saw the village blacksmith walking up to her.

"I was afraid you'd gone off without letting us say good bye to you first." He nodded.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. It's going to be hard enough to leave without having the chance to say farewell." Everything had been packed. Everything was ready.

Soon, she would leave the town of Silva, the only home she had ever known, and journey towards the heart of the Grado Empire. Once there… she would enlist to be a soldier in the Grado army. Her course had been mapped, sufficient provisions had been packed, and everything was ready.

Amelia closed her eyes, letting a soft breeze caress her. _Watch me, and watch over me, mother. I'm going to become stronger. I'll be strong enough to protect those I care for… those I love._

She turned back to regard the blacksmith. He had taken her in after the bandits had carried away her mother, and was the closest thing to family she had. He laid a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"I have something for you, child."

From his pack, he drew out a lance, nearly rapier-thin, that gleamed in the morning sun. The edge of its tip flashed silver-white in the light of the morning sun, the pewter gray of its length likewise glowing softly. It was as beautiful a weapon as would be found in the best of Grado's armouries. With a smile, he handed it to Amelia.

"Made from the finest ore I could get my hands on. May it serve you well, lass."

She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of the lance, observing it's delicate beauty. "Thank you… father." She managed.

A quiet murmur caused her to glance up. The entire population of the village had come to send her off. They stood there, smiling awkwardly, unsure as what to say. Finally, the village head stepped forward, holding a small bag.

"There's a hundred gold pieces in there, Amelia. Use it as you see fit."

"Oh, I will, sir! Thank you!" She gazed over the quiet village for the last time. Everything was so comfortable here… so familiar.

But she would leave nonetheless. Her mind had been made up a long time ago. She shook her head at the sudden rush of emotion that sprung up inside her, and a soft tear found it's way into her eye.

Then, on a prearranged signal, the townsfolk shouted their goodbyes as one. Their cheers rushed over her, threatening to overwhelm. Choking back the smallest of sobs, she raised her hand and waved farewell.

Then, as the villagers watched, she turned, walking past the village gates, lance in hand.

* * *

"Hii-YAH!" The sword blow was intercepted easily by General Seth, and he swung his lance in an arc, staggering Franz and knocking him back.

The young cavalier landed on his rear end- painfully, it might be noted. Clambering to his feet, Franz winced slightly as he rubbed his sore bottom.

"Your strikes still seem more like that of axe-blows than sword-strokes." Seth said patiently. "Remember, you must have strong enough footing so that if your opponent parries successfully, you will be able to recover."

"U-understood, sir." Franz nodded.

"Good." Seth allowed the ghost of a smile to grace his features. "Regardless, you are improving speedily. I believe that in less than a month your training should be more or less completed."

"Really?" To Franz, it hadn't been all that long since General Seth had agreed to train him.

In reality, his induction into the ranks of the Knights of Renais had come through a rather long and convoluted chain. A chance request to his older brother about the possibility of his becoming a knight had led to Forde mentioning Franz's plight to his liege lord, Prince Ephraim. Ephraim has passed the matter on to General Seth, who had apparently agreed to take him in on a trial basis without the slightest sense of hesitation whatsoever. He still hadn't the foggiest just _why_ the General had agreed to do so.

He had apparently performed to General Seth's satisfaction, for after several months, the Silver Knight had offered to train him personally.

And now here he was, trying his level best not to disappoint the man that he looked up to so much. Franz sometimes wished Forde were still here- his older brother was always ready with a word of encouragement- but he had ridden out with Prince Ephraim along with several other knights, towards the border of Grado for training exercises.

"Really." General Seth replied to his question. "And it should not be very long before you are a full-fledged knight of Renais."

Franz mentally filed away the compliment for enjoyment later as his mind wandered back to when he had last seen his brother.

* * *

"_Training exercise, little brother. Have to learn woodland survival skills if we're to ever survive a war. That's why we're going."_

_Franz had laughed at the incredulity of it all. "War? With who? Grado? Frelia? We are close allies with all our neighbouring nations- who on Magvel would we go to war with?"_

"_Don't know and don't much feel like finding out." Forde had shrugged. "Besides, if you think a life of chivalry and knighthood so redundant, why'd you sign up in the first place?"_

"_You know, fight to protect the villages from bandits and the like. No shortage of those in the mountains."_

"_Good point, little brother. I can just see it now. Sir Franz, bold and fearless bandit-slayer! Feared by all the lowlifes and riffraff, much loved and admired by all the village wom-"_

"_Oh, put a sock in it. Your group's almost ready to leave. Take care of yourself, Forde."_

"_You too, little brother."_

Franz was rudely jolted out of his reminiscence by the frantic shout a soldier. Stumbling into the castle courtyard, the guard nearly collapsed. He was quite clearly exhausted. "Disaster!" He cried. "Grado- attack… border guard vanquished…"

"Calm yourself!" General Seth ordered. Once the man looked to be on the winning end of catching his breath, the General nodded. "Now tell me what happened."

"It… it's the Grado Empire… they've… declared war on Renais… invaded through the border. Serafew is already taken, and most of the border regiments would be annihilated by now."

In an instant the courtyard become a roar of incredulous voices. "Invasion? Impossible!"

"We are close friends with the Empire! How could this…?"

"The king must be informed!"

Without a word, General Seth turned and raced into the hallways of the castle, intent on locating King Fado.

It seemed that every living being in the courtyard was darting about in confused haste. Commands and countermands were issued at a steady stream, and soldiers everywhere were thrust into the grim reality that they were now under attack but a country they had long since held as allies.

Meanwhile, Franz stood, bewildered in the center of the courtyard, clutching his sword, ignored by everyone around him. Alone in the sea of rushing humanity, he found his way to a stone bench and collapsed onto it, a storm of chaotic thoughts rushing through his mind. Silently, he replayed his question to his older brother. To whom would we go to war with? Now he knew.

What was to become of him- of everyone- now?

* * *

Chapter one completed. Please read and review. 


	2. Crossings

No Longer Alone

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Disclaimer: I own nothing

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Approximately 1 month later…

* * *

Franz stood at attention in the throne room of Castle Renais, observing the proceedings and, if he were to be honest with himself, feeling absolutely useless. Given the fact that he was currently in the presence of two (2) of the king's personal guards, one (1) Silver Knight a.k.a. General Seth, one (1) Princess of Renais and one (1) King of Renais, he was patently unsure as to just what he should be doing.

Then again, formality and decorum had long since disintegrated to the point of near non-existence. Political intrigue generally broke down when enemy troops were taking battering rams to the castle gates. And thus Franz was afforded the rather rare privilege of being in the throne room and in presence of such… ah, _distinguished_ personage.

Too flipping bad he probably wasn't going to enjoy any of it.

As he mentally pondered where exactly he had gotten such a offhanded view of things and came to the conclusion that it was a mixture of sharing his rather reckless brother's genes, his military training for calmness in the face of defeat, and the fact that he was probably going to be dead or on Death Row before the hour was out, a breathless soldier rushed in.

"Your Majesty! Grado's troops have already broken through the castle walls! The West Wing has been overrun! We can't hold out much longer!"

Franz had seen the king on many occasions, but despite His Majesty's age, he had never actually thought of him as _old_. Grave and wise would have been his words of choice. But now… the king slumped on his throne, eyes closed, head bent, his reply issued in a long sigh of despair. His Majesty looked ready to collapse, Franz thought unhappily.

"I see."

There was a long moment of silence as everyone waited expectantly for further orders. When none appeared forthcoming, the soldier cleared his throat hesitantly. "Uh… your Majesty? What should we do?"

Fado's eyes opened slowly. "What else can we do?" He replied with grim resignation. "Order all remaining soldiers to stand down. Further resistance is pointless. Grado has won."

The soldier nodded, then turned and vanished past the twin doors. The king looked up, first to General Seth, and then to the Princess.

"Eirika." He spoke slowly but surely. "Do you still have the bracelet I gave you?"

"Yes…" The young princess nodded uncertainly, unsure of why he would care in a time like this. "But, father…"

The king had already turned back to the General. "Seth, take her to Frelia. King Hayden is a honourable man. He will take care of you."

General Seth gave the slightest of nods. "And you, your Highness?"

The king sighed. "Me? I will remain here. Emperor Vigarde was my friend, Grado our dear ally. Have I somehow erred? Was this invasion my fault?" He shook his head. "It is my responsibility to defend my nation… how could I have failed her so?"

Franz's eyes darted nervously from his General to his Lord. Were there any proper words for times like this?

He was interrupted by an indignant cry from the Princess. "Father, you can't! If you're going to remain here, then so will I!"

"Seth!" The shout itself was a command.

Seth grabbed hold of the princesses' wrist, nodded for Franz to follow and sprinted out of the throne room, half-leading, half-dragging the princess.

As Franz struggled to keep pace with the General, he could see marks of the battle that had stormed through the inner reaches of the entire castle. Magic blasts had scored stone; swords had slashed through tapestries, leaving the remaining pieces of cloth to flutter forlornly in the breeze; lances were impaled into tables, walls, and more often than not, bodies. It was a good thing, Franz later decided, that he had been running too fast to recognize any of the cadavers strewn throughout the grounds.

"Rear stables." Were Seth's only words. Franz nodded his compliance and followed him through the twisting, winding corridors of the fortress he had come to know as well as his own home.

As he entered the stable, he saw two men arrayed in armour that bore the insignia of the Grado Empire, recruits obviously assigned to guard this place. Upon catching sight of the three newcomers, the slightly more alert one's hand flew to the hilt of his sword-

Just a split second too slow to defend himself from General Seth's strike. The soldier collapsed without a sound.

The second had already drawn his blade and leapt at Franz. Parrying furiously with his own sword, Franz managed to hold his ground, though he wasn't very likely to make much headway in getting a killing blow on his opponent. His dilemma was resolved when General Seth clocked the soldier on the back of his head with a gauntleted fist, dropping the man like a sack of potatoes.

"Don't bother tying him- no time." The General instructed, already saddling his warhorse and extending his hand to help Eirika up. Franz likewise finished placing his saddle on Neige, leapt up, and nodded his readiness to his teacher.

Then they were off.

* * *

"_You go ahead, Franz. A single rider can slip past any guards more easily than the both of us. Petition the Frelian Border Guard for aid."_

"_Understood, sir!"_

Franz leaned over Neige, urging his horse to move faster. He had engaged in military training with members of the Eastern Watch – Frelia's Border Guard - before, and he knew the location of their fort. The castle rapidly shrinking behind him, he pulled the reins slightly, guiding his steed more to the left.

A harsh, croaking sort of scream abruptly drew his attention. Jerking his head around as far as he could go, he made out what appeared to be a trio of giant bats circling around the approximate area he had left General Seth and the Princess. Franz was no expert in the ways of wyverns, but he could tell by the way the lead flyer guided his mount that he obviously knew what he was doing.

Offering a silent prayer for the safety of the General and the Princess, Franz let his training take over, washing all other thoughts than that of his current task out of his mind.

* * *

Two days later…

* * *

The inn was noisy, dusty, and crowded, but given the fact that she had gotten a meal and a roof over her head for the past night, Amelia wasn't complaining. As she spooned bites of some sort of unidentifiable meat into her mouth, she pulled out a worn map, studying her route. If she crossed the nearby bridge, she would be able to reach Serafew by nightfall. Amelia scratched her arm absentmindedly –a midge bite had left a tiny red mark near her elbow.

"It's settled, then." She said, tucking the map back into her satchel. "Serafew's the border town –from there, it should be a straightforward journey to the capital. I'm –"

The end of her sentence was drowned out by a loud cheer from outside the tavern. An instant later, a villager rushed in, obviously exuberant.

"We've done it! Renais has fallen to our armies! Our invasion has succeeded! We have victory!" Instantly the entire inn erupted to cheers, celebrating their victory.

Amelia, elsewhile, kept her head low. She had heard about the war starting shortly after she had left the village, of course. And frankly, she had mixed feelings about this war.

Not about it's necessity, of course. Renais was an evil country that oppressed its citizens and overtaxed them. The government of Grado had announced a long list of atrocities the ruling houses were responsible for against the populace, in which Prince Ephraim, the renegade warrior that was apparently stilling hounding Grado's troops, topped the list. The Emperor himself had made the list public, and if the Emperor could not be relied upon as trustworthy, then who could?

No, there were definitely no qualms about the justness of this war. The rulers of Renais were corrupt tyrants, and they had to go.

What she was primarily concerned about were the common folk of Renais. No matter how swift the war was, the devastation to the country couldn't have been light.

Added to rumours that the Emperor was currently ignoring all pleas for the rebuilding of Renais, not to mention giving bandits free run of the country (a fact that made Amelia's stomach churn whenever she thought about it), and she felt an ever growing sense of unease over the whole business.

Glancing up, she noted she had already finished her meal. Waving away her questions like they were pesky flies, she shouldered her pack and lance, paid the innkeeper, and left the villagers to their celebrations.

* * *

Franz had been on the verge of collapsing with exhaustion when he caught sight of the fortress that housed the Eastern Watch in the distance. Galloping just about nonstop for nearly forty-eight hours had a tendency to take its toll on you. Spurred on by the encouraging sight of the bastion, he (and Neige) found an extra reserve of energy he hadn't known he possessed, and galloped towards the gates. As he approached, he noticed the sentries had already spotted him and were calling into the hallways of the fort.

In short order, a knight layered in dark green armour appeared to meet him, lance at the ready. When the knight caught sight of the emblem of Renais on his armour, he relaxed somewhat, but still gripped the spear, ready for action.

"What news from Renais, boy?" He asked.

In between loud gasps for breath, Franz managed to choke out, "Castle… Renais… fallen. The princess is… fleeing… towards border… Mulan. Need aid, Sir… sir…"

"Gilliam." The knight provided. "Sir Gilliam of the Eastern Watch. Princess Eirika is headed for the Frelian border, you say?" Franz summoned enough energy to nod.

"Hmm." Gilliam turned towards the entrance of the castle. "Is haste needed?"

"Ye… yes, sir."

Gilliam nodded once more, then signaled a sentry, "There's another outpost near the Border Mulan. We'll be able to get fresher troops there."

A nearer outpost? Franz pulled up a mental map of the region. He didn't remember any other fort…

Seeing the young cavalier's obvious confusion, Gilliam managed a tiny smile. "Kept secret from other countries, in case of situations as these. You can lead the way back to your princess?"

Logic would dictate that General Seth would lead the Princes to Frelia by the most direct route possible –the longer they stayed in Renais, the higher chances of being caught. With this in mind, Franz could nod, fairly certain of himself.

"Let's be off, then." The knight rumbled.

"Just –just the two of us, sir?"

"I told you. Fresher troops at the border outpost. I can't very well leave a knight of Renais to rush back by himself, can I? And I don't suppose you'd want to be staying here. Come on, then."

"Er…" Franz began, blushing slightly. "Does anyone here have a spare lance?" Fleeing from the Castle also meant he hadn't time to properly equip himself, and among the things he had neglected to bring along was a spear.

"…" Wordlessly, Gilliam picked one up from the rack near the gate and handed it to him. "Let's move."

"Yes… yes, sir."

* * *

"Princess Tana's in _there_?" Franz stared incredulously at the fortress they had originally been planning to gain reinforcements from. The countryside was now crawling with Grado soldiers, and based on the message from the harried cavalier that had ridden off back to the Eastern Watch fortress, the Princess was currently housed in there, and probably captured too.

Gilliam let out a sigh. "Looks like it. I'm counting on the enemy commander being smart enough to know the princess is a valuable hostage. She's in no danger if he realizes that. However, I'm not sure if we can retake the entire area with only the two of us…"

"Wait… over there! It's… General Seth! And Princess Eirika!"

The Silver Knight was currently astride his warhorse, and pinning a soldier to the ground with his lance. Close by, Eirika nimbly dodged an axe blow before dealing two precise strikes with her rapier, felling her opponent.

"Well, that settles the choice about whether we advance or retreat, I suppose." Gilliam replied. "I've got the stronger armour, so I'll take the point. Watch my back, lad."

"Got it." Franz watched as Gilliam charged forward, nearly barreling into an enemy soldier that hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. As the soldier whirled around with a yelp of surprise, the butt of Gilliam's lance smacked into his helmet with a lovely reverberating _clang_. The soldier took a half -step backwards, then dropped.

Franz likewise spurred his horse into a gallop, heading for his General. A quick thrust with his lance at the thigh disabled his first opponent, and as another one turned to face him, he reared up, letting his sword blow fall with the combined weight of him and his horse upon his foe. Knocked back, the soldier sprawled on the floor, and the shiny point of a lance to his throat compelled him to surrender without much fuss.

Working in tandem, the two separate groups were finally able to meet up.

"General!" Franz cried. "You're safe!"

Seth smiled in return, although Franz caught a slight flash of pain in his expression. "You too, Franz. It does my heart good to see you well."

Further conversation was cut short by a phalanx of soldiers appearing behind them, apparently people who had been pursuing the princess.

"But it appears we shall have to finish our catching up after this battle." Seth continued without missing a beat as he wheeled his warhorse around to face the oncoming troops. "Let us ride together, Franz."

Franz readied his lance and nodded. "With honour, sir."

* * *

Meanwhile…

* * *

"You _can't_ be serious." Amelia shook her head. "I don't understand."

"That's just the way it is." The soldier shook his head. "This bridge is closed. It's been dismantled for a long time. We're only here to guard against immigrants that try to bypass the taxes by using the rivers."

"But… but…" Amelia fumbled around in her pack for a moment before drawing out her map. "Look! It says the crossing is right here!"

The soldier coughed slightly, then said, "Um…this _is_ a rather old map, you know…"

Amelia groaned silently. That map was the only one she ever had. "Now what do I do?" She mumbled to herself. This was the fastest way to Serafew, and now –

The soldier had snapped his fingers. "Wait a second." Vanishing back into the guard room, he stepped out again. "Sorry, I can't let you cross even if I wanted to, but here." He handed her a tightly rolled up scroll. "This map should be as up–to–date as is humanly possible. You'll be able to plot your course better here. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing, girl." Then he disappeared back into the guardroom.

After studying her new map for several seconds, Amelia groaned –out loud, this time. Based on the most current routes, even the fastest path to Serafew would take her a week at least.

Well, there was nothing for it. Brushing a stray strand of blonde hair from her eyes, Amelia hefted her pack onto her back, and began the lonely march down the road.

* * *

Chapter two completed. Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	3. Weary

No Longer Alone

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed before the tiny company stood before the fortress gates, facing down what remained of the opposition. Franz wiped the sweat from his brow. The constant tension of war was more tiring than he had ever been led to imagine.

"How are you holding up, boy?" Gilliam asked with a concerned expression on his face. At least, Franz assumed it was a concerned expression. Given the fact that a scowl seemed perpetually frozen onto the armoured knight's face, Franz supposed it was the best he could do.

"I'm fine, sir." Given the fact that the question posed to him had been rather vague, an equally vague answer wasn't, technically speaking, a lie, right?

In truth Franz felt as if he had just been through a meat grinder, and he probably looked the part as well. The prospect of a soft bed had never seemed so appealing as right now.

"Ah." Gilliam nodded. "I only asked because you are currently shaking like a leaf in a storm." That remark caused Franz to glance down at his lance arm, which he now realized was trembling uncontrollably.

"Ah… I…" Great. Now he looked like an idiot for all the world to see. Not that General Seth or the Princess appeared to be paying any attention, but still…

"A combination of fatigue and terror would be my best bet. This is your first time on the field, isn't it." The way he said it left no doubt that it wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir." Franz mumbled. A moment later he felt a reassuring pat on his back.

"It gets easier. Trust me."

Franz gave a grateful nod, just before he whipped his head up at the sound of a war cry. General Seth had encountered what remained of the resistance.

Instinct took over, and in the space of a heartbeat Franz had spurred his mount into action as well. Charging to the aid of his teacher, he managed to disable a soldier with a quick stab of his lance before the others noticed that a new foe had approached them. Slower than the others due to his armour and lack of a horse, Gilliam brought up the rear, ensuring no one attempted an ambush.

Elsewhile, the princess had charged the enemy commander. Nimbly sidestepping his clumsy strike, she stabbed once. The gleaming rapier sank into a previously unnoticed seam in the armour, piercing his heart. With a groan, the commander slumped over, dead. The rest of the soldiers fled.

Dismounting, Franz slumped onto the cold ground, vaguely aware of Gilliam rushing inside to ascertain the safety of Princess Tana. The General offered him nothing more than a quick nod before hurrying to the Princess Eirika's side, and he was left alone in the fading light of evening.

He pressed a gauntlet to his face, partially wiping the sheen of sweat that covered his forehead. The searing pain in his lungs felt comparable to having been stabbed multiple times by a rusty dagger, and his limbs felt more like they had been made out of water than solid bone and muscle. A gentle sort of weariness was settling in, the kind Franz realized to show up only after periods of great excitement. The physicians back at the castle had called it 'adrenaline wearing out'. All he knew was that he was feeling it now.

Giving in to his fatigue, the young cavalier flopped onto his back, staring at the endless skies. Was this what war was truly like? Exhaling softly, he closed his eyes, trying to imagine the endless battles that would stretch before him until the day Renais was restored.

* * *

The last feeble rays of the sun had nearly given up the ghost by the time Amelia had managed to set up her tent for the night. Given the fact that she hadn't anticipated the… _detour_ that would lead her on a rather roundabout journey to Serafew, she had neglected to figure out lodging for this particular night. Hang it all, she should have been at the Serafew Inn by now.

As it was, her sad attempt at camp-craft would have made whoever first coined that term roll in his or her grave. She was also pretty certain that those sheets were meant to be used for _something_; only she couldn't remember just what. This trail seemed more or less a deserted one, and thus she had the entire field to herself.

If only she had _wanted_ the entire field to herself. As it was, caring hands and a warm voice seemed to be commodities largely desired, and in short supply.

With a sigh, she shook off those thoughts as best she could, and crawled into the tent. Only then did she realize exactly what those sheets were for – flooring. No good having a tent to keep out the elements if you spent the night lying on a cold and rather muddy field. Muttering to herself, Amelia exited – just in time to watch the tent sag over and collapse.

Amelia slumped down on a nearby rock, took a deep breath, and let out one of the longest sighs she ever had in her life. Glancing up towards the sky as the first of the stars made their appearance, she tried to recall her initial enthusiasm and vigour that had filled her when she had first begun the journey.

None was forthcoming. What rushed her instead was a long list of disappointments and worries. Teetering on the feathered edges of her conscious mind was whether or not she should simply give up.

She shut her eyes for several long moments, letting all her thoughts swirl around her mind like a whirlpool. As she remembered, all the happy days of her youth in Silva teased her, tantalizing her with memories of soft beds, ready laughter, gentle words of encouragement. Contrasted to her current conditions, and turning back seemed to get more appealing every passing second.

She opened her eyes, staring at the path she had walked to get here. A slight shift of her head and she was staring in the opposite direction, the road that would lead her to Serafew.

Then her attention shifted once more, to the messy lump of fabric and pegs and rope that was supposed to be her tent. "What am I doing?" Amelia finally mumbled to herself. "I can't even pitch a tent right. Why on Magvel would they accept someone like me?" Standing, she reached over to set up her tent, to spend one final night in the outside world, before turning back. Those in the village might have been disappointed that she returned, but maybe she could try again a few years later. They would understand -

_Clunk._

She glanced down. Her lance had rolled out of the securing ropes she had used to fasten it to her pack. Now it rested at her feet, glowing softly as if in silent admonishment to what she was doing.

Leaning over, she picked up the lance slowly, very slowly. Settling back down on her rocky seat, she wiped off all the mud she could find, until the lance gleamed once again with pristine purity.

As the night continued to deepen, she simply sat there, staring down at the lance in her hands.

* * *

"Franz?" A boot to his side quickly jolted the cavalier awake, and into an upright sitting position.

A quick glance around noted that it was now dark. A second noted that he was on the grassy plain he had… lain… down… in…

Franz squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Wonderful. He had fallen asleep while still technically on duty. As he sat there rubbing his eyes, he wondered if his current situation could get anymore humiliating.

That was when he noticed it had been General Seth who had nudged him awake.

Franz shot up so fast he practically caused a sonic boom, and saluted frantically. "A-apologies, sir!"

"At ease." The General's expression held no clue as to whether he was amused, indifferent, or ready to dismiss Franz on the spot. "The area has been secured." He continued calmly. "And the remaining Frelian soldiers have located enough bunks for us four. I thought you might prefer it to your… current sleeping accommodations."

A tiny snicker drew his attention, and a quick glance behind his teacher revealed four knights, Frelian by the crests on their armour, smirking at him. Life just got better and better, assuming by 'better' one meant 'worse'.

Managing a nod to the General before falling in behind him, Franz followed the General into the border fort.

* * *

Several hours later…

* * *

_Of all the rotten luck._ Franz thought unhappily as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The cot was made out of some scratchy material that he felt no particular interest in identifying, but that wasn't – shouldn't – have been a problem for him. He'd nodded off in far worse conditions.

And yet here he was, several hours later, wide awake, partly because of a carousel of thoughts that seemed insistent on drawing the youth's undivided attention, and partly because Sir Gilliam snored like a wyvern. Fleetingly, Franz considered ripping the bedsheets up and stuffing them into his ears, but the fact that it probably wouldn't be acting in the best manner towards his Frelian hosts (not to mention reparations for damaged property was likely to come out of his own purse) quickly silenced that notion.

After groaning for what seemed the umpteenth time and rolling over yet again, he wondered how Forde was doing. Seeing as how his older brother's last known position had placed him in company of the now missing Prince, it was a fair bet that if Prince Ephraim now survived, his brother lived too.

Assuming, of course, that a stray arrow or javelin hadn't found its way onto a weak spot in his elder brother's armour…

"**SSSHNNNARKK…**" Gilliam's snore once again rumbled throughout the tiny room. Sighing, Franz returned to his interrupted musings. His mother had died when he had been too young to remember her, and his father had also passed on around his sixth birthday. Forde was the only family he had now.

Sighing, he let his train of thought continue to the General, who was currently bedding down in the room adjacent to this one. He and the Princesses had been busy planning the most direct route to the Frelian capital, and most likely it would be a hard ride. Something odd, though… Franz frowned at the memory. Nearly every time the General had raised his left arm, whether in combat or to gesture at something, a flash of plain had made its way onto his face. It only lasted for a split instant, but after seeing it for the fourth or fifth time, Franz couldn't write it off to imagination.

Relegating it to a list of questions to be dealt with 'later', he rolled over once more, stuffed his fingers into his ears, shut his eyes, and tried to sleep.

…

…

…

"**SSSHHHNNNNAARKK...**"

Maybe if he thought 'happy' thoughts… like golden summer fields, cool springs, glorious meadows…

* * *

The next morning…

* * *

A casual observer might have assumed it to be a slightly discoloured boulder. After all, it was shaped like one. If it weren't for the viridian colouration, not to mention a silvery pole sticking up from the centre, no one would have given it a second glance.

Frankly, Amelia preferred they _didn't_ give her tent a second glance. She would have also preferred no one give it a first glance. Lest there be any doubters amongst you, she established that fact very quickly after she wriggled her way out of the exit. Rolling her tent into as small a ball as possible (an act that was aided by copious amounts of stomping), she stuffed it into her bag and vowed to wipe all memory of it from her mind.

Lugging her pack onto her shoulders, she glanced at the two pathways that stretched out before her. Then, with a smile, she turned and took a step in the direction of Serafew.

_The journey may be tough,_ She thought to herself. _And the destination tougher. But I'll persevere. I will finish it. I will grow stronger. And I'll make everyone at home proud._

She glanced heavenward as the clouds slowly parted, letting the sun peek through once more. _Are you watching, mother? I'll grow stronger and I'll make you proud of me. That's a promise._

Gripping her lance tightly in her right hand, she continued down the trail.

* * *

A tap on the shoulder was what roused Franz from the land of slumber this time. Glancing up, he noted Gilliam was up – and decked in full battle armour – and was gesturing for him to do likewise.

Sleepily, he clambered to his feet, and began dressing, as Gilliam listed out the day's itinerary. "We'll be leaving for the castle before the hour is out. Assuming we get a smooth journey, it'll take us approximately two days to reach the capital."

Franz nodded drowsily as he buckled his breastplate. Standing, yawning, and stretching, he got himself ready quickly as he considered possible, and followed the older knight outside.

General Seth was already there and waiting for them, along with Princess Eirika. A moment later, Princess Tana stumbled out of her personal room, rubbing sleep stuff from her eyes, and hair a mess. For a lady who was normally so cheery and sociable, Franz noted, she wasn't at her best in the mornings. Eirika took it all in stride – probably nothing she hadn't seen before, and motioned to the carriage. From what Franz could tell, his part in this would be to ride vanguard for the primary escort. Simple enough, bar the possibility of a bandit attack, but few gangs would be idiotic – or desperate – enough to assault a carriage flanked by a full regiment of knights. The only other plausible opponent would be Grado troops, and it was unlikely they would have ventured so far into Frelia. Regardless, more troops would arrive at the border fort to strengthen it soon, and hopefully hold it should a siege occur.

With a nod from General Seth, Franz mounted Neige, and rode slowly. _I feel somewhat guilty,_ He thought to himself. _Most of my fellow trainees are either dead or in captivity, and I'm alive and free, stuck with no more cumbersome a duty than escorting a pair of Princesses, solely because of my connection to General Seth. Heck, my brother is currently a renegade in Grado territory, if reports are to be believed._ He glanced down at the paved path he was riding along on, and a melancholic smile found its way onto his face. _It seems to me I'm getting off entirely too easy on this whole wretched mess._

Fate, it seemed, would later go all-out to prove that particular thought wrong.

* * *

Chapter three completed. Thank you for reading. I ask that you review. 


	4. March

* * *

No Longer Alone

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Franz stood at attention as the muffled sounds of discussion floated through the shut door. After successfully escorting both princesses to Castle Frelia, the General had ordered him to keep outside the room while he, Princess Eirika, and King Hayden entered a discussion centering over the next course of action.

That was one of the downsides of being mere knight, he supposed. Close enough to the courtly proceedings to intrigue you, but unable to really access anywhere.

Franz's eyes shifted slightly as he heard the sound of laughter down the hallway. Two of the palace maids scurried past, deeply engaged in conversation. They rounded a corridor, but not fast enough to drown out a peal of laughter that came from the younger of the two.

Shifting his weight slightly – Latona, this was _boring_ – Franz leant back slightly, trying to pick up what he believed was King Hayden's voice. Tilting his head back as far as he believed he could without appearing totally obvious to anyone who happened to pass by that he was eavesdropping, he was barely able to catch the tail end of the conversation.

"Hmph. Same foolhardy determination as your father. What am I to do with that, eh? … Vanessa."

He heard an affirmation, and then the King said something else Franz couldn't quite catch. He leaned forward again, until he was standing normally. Given King Hayden's remark was likely towards Eirika, she was going off… somewhere. As a knight of Renais, he'd be oath-bound to follow her. Not that he had much idea of running off somewhere on his own anyway. Knighthood was his life.

The doors to the inner chambers abruptly swung open, and General Seth strode out.

"At ease, Franz." He said in response to the young knight's salute. "We're to leave, fully armed and supplied before the passing of the next watch."

"Yes, sir. Our destination?"

Seth hesitated a full second before replying. "Renvall."

"Renvall?" Franz sputtered. "B-but that's in Grado!"

Seth nodded. "Yes it is, Franz. Get whatever you believe you need and meet Princess Eirika at the courtyard within twenty minutes."

"Y- yes, sir." Franz said lamely to the General's already departing figure. Sighing, he turned and began walking back to his assigned quarters. It seemed as if everything he knew was currently in freefall.

* * *

"Sir Gilliam! You will be traveling with us?" Franz asked. The solemn knight nodded. "I have been assigned to travel with the lady Eirika. I will do my best to aid her in her journey."

Right. Her journey. A journey that involved cutting through Renais, entering Grado, and searching around the Renvall area for her brother. With less than ten soldiers under her command.

He supposed her plan had some merit (The General was endorsing it, after all.), but every time he tried to figure those merits out, he instead started recalling his lessons from tactical training. In fact, he mainly recalled this one lesson near the start of his apprenticeship that had been entitled 'Don't go charging into enemy territory with less than ten soldiers, moron!', or… something to that effect.

Snapping out his reverie, he noted that Princess Tana was talking to Princess Eirika. The Frelian Princess seemed unhappy, he noted.

"Franz." He turned and saw Seth already mounted on his warhorse, armour shining in the midafternoon sun. Franz nodded and swiftly mounted Neige.

The princess looked over her ragtag band of fighters and let out a soft sigh. Then, raising her hand and her voice, she gave the command. "Move out!"

* * *

Two days later…

Amelia supposed the widening of the innkeeper's eyes and the sudden hush at the bar had largely to do with the fact that she had stumbled in at what could only be described as an ungodly hour. Added to the fact that she was currently covered in mud and dripping wet, she looked much like she hadn't seen a decent bath in years instead of a mere three days.

But, she reflected, that was probably what falling down while attempting to ford a rather muddy river would do to you. Walking over to the innkeeper, she out on the best smile she could muster. "I'd like a room… with a bath, please."

The innkeeper looked dubiously at her, then extended a hand, palm upwards. Rolling her eyes, Amelia dug into her pack and pulled out fifteen silver coins – enough for the night's stay.

"This way, miss." The innkeeper spoke gruffly as he led her into a back room.

An hour later, a far cleaner and refreshed Amelia sat down in her room, biting her lip as she traced a tiny path on her map with her finger. She should reach Serafew in three to four days, depending on travel conditions.

Briefly, she wondered if she should go down to the bar area and attempt some interaction with the other patrons, but ultimately decided against it, since an early start tomorrow (or later today, as it were) would be required to increase chances of reaching the next roadside inn, and also because a young, nervous girl probably wouldn't be welcomed by those downstairs.

Sighing, she flopped onto her bed, rolled over, and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Earlier that day, halfway across the continent…

There was a screech of steel against steel as Franz's sword blocked the axe blow from the brigand. The resultant force caused him to lurch to the right, stumbling Neige, and generally adding to the confused mood the band of travelers was in right now.

As Neige regained her footing, Franz made a stab at the thug he faced, which resulted in his sword being parried, and him nearly losing his grip on it. Gritting his teeth Franz changed tactics and stabbed again – this time directly at the bandit's hand which was holding the axe, which bore much more immediate results. The brigand howled in pain, dropping the axe in the process, which made it a lot easier for Franz to lash out with his foot and lay his foe flat on the ground.

_Brigands,_ He thought distastefully. _Now that Renais' knights are scattered or dead, they can move throughout the land without fear._ His scowl changed subconsciously into a grim smile. _Or so this group thought._

Bandits generally didn't bother with much training in combat, following the general philosophy that having a weapon made you deadly enough. This might have held true when terrorizing villagers, but it was markedly less effective against armed and trained knights.

General Seth rode past, blade swinging up in a smooth motion that cut deep into a bandit attempting to jump atop his horse. From above, the Pegasus rider Vanessa hurled a javelin with deadly accuracy, piercing the heart of a brigand as he tried to sneak an attack on the Princess. Sir Gilliam crouched to avoid the clumsy axe-swing of yet another bandit, and slammed the butt of his spear into his opponent's chest, sending his foe sprawling and coughing up blood.

The battle was already winding down, from what Franz could see. What few bandits that still could were more or less fleeing, with those still alive but unable to run were quickly being rounded up and detained until further notice.

"Franz." He heard Seth call. As Franz turned, Seth indicated the nearby villages. "Ride to them and inform them the threat has been dealt with for now. They can reopen their gates."

"Understood." Franz nodded, as he rode off towards the nearby settlements. The sun was already sinking in the horizon, he noted.

Approaching the first of the towns, he noted several wary villagers standing near the closed gates, holding pitchforks, axes, and various other farming implements. Upon seeing the emblem of Renais on his armour, they relaxed somewhat. "Is it safe, sir knight?"

Franz nodded. "The bandits have been routed." He called back. "Your village is safe."

Cheers erupted as three of the men began reopening the gates while the others headed back to the village to inform them of the good news. Smiling, Franz urged his steed on towards the next village.

It was just past nightfall when Franz finally made it back to the camp they had set up for the night. Weary from long riding and battle, he was glad to dismount, sit , and rest by the campfire.

"Franz?" Seth again. Nodding affirmation that he had heard, the young cavalier stood and made his way over to the General, who gestured towards a well-muscled man standing to his right.

"Franz, this is Sir Garcia, and his son Ross, from the village of Ide. They will be joining our troop for this expedition. I felt I should inform you."

_Garcia…?_ That name sounded familiar. And the General had referred to him as 'Sir'…

"Begging your pardon, Sir Garcia, but… are you the same Garcia who was troop commander of Renais until ten years ago?"

A smile spread across the barrel-chested warrior's face. "Aye, that would be me. Why? Heard tales of me, have you?"

"No! Well, yes, but most of them speak glowingly of your fighting skill. It… it is an honour to be able to fight alongside you, sir."

Garcia barked out a laugh. "Hah! I see they've not slacked off on courtesy training for the recruits." He smiled down to Franz. "You'll make us a fine knight, boy."

Seth, who had been smiling slightly throughout the entire exchange, gestured again to indicate the youth standing slightly behind Garcia. "This would be Ross. We're lacking in tents, and the local villagers don't have suppliers, so you two will share a tent for several nights. This shouldn't be a problem, should –"

"Oh!" The startled cry came from the Princess, and Franz whipped around, hand already halfway to his sword hilt. He caught a glimpse of a navy blue cloak fluttering in the darkness before the trees swallowed it up. Aside from that, nothing seemed amiss…

Nevertheless, General Seth walked over to ascertain there was no damage done to the princess, while Franz watched curiously. As the General and the Princess conversed, he noted that Seth seemed to become more agitated with each passing moment.

Abruptly, he turned and strode – practically ran – towards his mount, while shouting an order to the troop. "All units, prepare to move out! We ride through the night!"

"What?" The question came from Father Moulder, the priest assigned by King Hayden to the band. "I'm sorry, General, but as the priest my first concern is the welfare of the soldiers. They've just finished a battle, and surely a fair number are not up for an all-night march."

"I appreciate that, Father, but there are more important things at stake now." Seth replied from atop his warhorse. "Franz! Vanessa!"

"Here, General!" Franz acknowledged, already astride Neige.

"I am ready." Franz could detect weariness in the flier's voice, but that was overshadowed by her resolve.

"We three are the fastest of the group. Move ahead and scout for signs of a thief. According to Princess Eirika's description, he had blue hair, and a dark cloak. The rest of you, travel in the general direction towards the mountains; it's likely the thief was another bandit. That's all. Move!"

Without replying, Franz dug his heels into the side of Neige, and steered his mount towards the dark thicket. Odds were slim to none of him finding any sign of the thief in the gloom, but his General had commanded, and he would obey.

* * *

Early the next morning…

Dawns' first rays had all but pierced the thin veil of morning fog as Amelia made her way out the inn. Yawning slightly, she shifted her pack so that it didn't dig into her shoulder quite so much, and started her walking again.

_I wonder what life as a soldier will be like._ She thought to herself as she continued down the path. _I wonder if what kind of commander I'd be assigned to…_ A smile graced her face. _Maybe someone just and honourable like General Duessel._ Based on reports, it was the General's personal retinue that had defeated the bandits that had raided Silva all those years ago. _I want to be just like him when I grow up… a powerful warrior that cares for the people._

She frowned slightly as her train of thought shifted. _I wonder what it's like to be a general in a war. Knowing that the lives of thousands of people depend on just about every tactical decision you make. I don't think I could ever handle the strain of that sort of responsibility._

"One step at a time, I suppose." She said out loud. "Whatever my lot is, I'll bear it."

The road led ever onward.

* * *

Franz shook his head wearily as he tried to get his eyes to focus. The all-night search had turned up nothing, and he now had a headache that made just about everything blurry when he looked at it.

"Sir Franz? Are you okay?" The question came from Vanessa. The Pegasus rider must have been as tired as she was, but she apparently wasn't letting it show.

"Fine… just… need a good rest." He managed before he yawned. "I wonder why the General was so insistent on us finding that thief." He continued sleepily.

"Time will tell, I suppose." The green-haired sky rider shrugged. "He must have some reason to – what's that?"

"Hm?" As Neige trotted after the gliding Pegasus, Franz caught sight of a strip of dark blue cloth caught on a low-hanging branch.

"Thus _could_ be from our wayward thief." Vanessa theorized. "But we can't say for sure…"

"I can." Franz offered. "I saw his cloak last night. Same colour as this one, and in a straight line from the camp to the mountains." Glancing around, he noted a single footprint, pointed towards the mountains as well. "Yep. Probably our thief."

"Everyone," General Seth rode up. "The locals say they say a young boy matching the description of the bracelet thief. He was headed for the mountains."

"That poses a problem." Gilliam said from behind the two of them. Franz jumped slightly – he hadn't heard the knight approach. "The bandits know the crags and gullies of the mountains well. We could wander there a lifetime and never find their hideout."

"I agree." The delicate voice of Eirika also came up from the brush as she stepped through it. "We don't have time for this, Seth. The bracelet was a keepsake from my father… but it's not that valuable."

Seth seemed about to reply when they heard a soft, hesitant voice. "Um… e-excuse me?"

Franz turned. A pink-haired girl with a gentle face glanced around nervously as she approached them. "Are… are you all some sort of, er… mercenary troop?"

Seth took the lead. "Why do you ask?"

The girl hesitated a moment, then burst out, "Please! Y-you have to help Colm! He's gone off into the mountains!"

"Calm down." The Princess said soothingly. "Start from the beginning. Who's Colm, and why did he rush off into the mountains for?"

The girl seemed almost on the verge of tears, but then composed herself and nodded. "All… alright." She sniffled. "I'm Neimi. I came from a village called Lark, but… but it was attacked by bandits. O- only Colm and I…" Franz could tell she was fighting to hold back her sobs. "The bandits… they stole something from me… Colm said he would go get it back… I told him it was too dangerous, b-but he told me not to worry so much and went off anyway. If… if I lose Colm, I don't know what I'll… I…" The sobs she had been holding back finally broke free

The Princess's face had gone still, a look that spoke volumes of what she felt inside. But the only thing she asked was, "Can you lead us to him?"

That seemed to rouse Neimi from her cry. "Yes… um, it's this way…"

Seth nodded, and waved the rest of the troop to follow. Franz complied, even though he felt completely exhausted. Truth be told, he had no idea how much he would be able to contribute to the upcoming fight that he felt was certain to ensue.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	5. Raid

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Franz gazed uncertainly at the towering stone before him. The structure was weatherworn but solid. When one was still, he would be able to hear raucous laughter and the occasional lewd joke floating through.

Yup. Definitely the bandit hideout.

Seth glanced around the group for a moment, then raised his voice.

"Who among you feel too weary for battle?" He questioned the small troupe.

No one raised their hand, although Franz noted Ross glancing pensively at his father.

Eirika shifted her grip on her Rapier. "Thanks for leading us here, Neimi. Now, stay out here, out of harm's way, and if the battle doesn't appear to be going well for us, get out as soon as you –"

"Um, actually…" Neimi began. "I'm not too bad at… My grandfather… What I mean is… Well, I've some skill with a bow."

"Are you saying you wish to fight?"

The young girl nodded.

"Well… all right, but keep out of danger… Ah, I know! Franz!"

"Milady." The knight replied, already knowing her request.

"Can you stay by her side and protect her?"

Inwardly, Franz wondered if he could even do an adequate job of protecting himself in his current sleep deprived state. He knew knights were supposed to be hardy warriors who could ride for days on end without rest, but he was nowhere near that level yet.

Still, there was only one answer. "Of course, milady."

Eirika gave a harried nod. "Good."

"I see several weak points in the walls." Seth intoned calmly. "If we were to strike them with a powerful weapon, they should crumble in a few hits."

"I could probably handle that." Garcia said confidently. "Warhammers are made for smashing things, after all."

"…Alright. Here's how it's going to be." Eirika said. "There's the main entrance over there, but it seems to be sparsely guarded. Franz, you take Neimi and Ross over to the main entrance. Try to cause a distraction while the rest of us focus on the wall."

"Franz." Seth spoke up. "The corridors of this place will likely be narrow. Dismounting would work to our advantage here."

Nodding to both the Princess and the General, he dismounted and tied Neige to a nearby rock outcropping. She would know enough not to move until he returned for her.

"Neimi, Ross, you guys ready?" He asked his two companions, who nodded their response. Franz noticed Neimi glancing about uncertainly, though.

"All right." Seth commanded, gesturing with his blade. "Move out."

* * *

How does one go about the task of causing a distraction? Well, there are several options. 

First, of course, one could always do the classic 'toss a rock in a direction far away from you' gag.

Then again, perhaps trying to blend in with the enemy might work.

That, or luring them out one by one while those inside wonders why so many of the bandits are disappearing.

Or, one could simply take the no-brainer route of charging inside and bashing everything you saw.

Franz probably would have tried something a bit more tactical _had_ the tactical side of his mind not refused to wake up, but as it were, he was tired, slightly grumpy, and wanted to get this fight over with.

As Neimi opened the festivities by firing an arrow into the leg of an unwary bandit, Franz charged in, smacking the flat of his blade against the back of the bandit's head, dropping the man and leaving him unconscious.

As another thug charged into the room, bellowing an incoherent war cry, Ross caught him mid-yawp with a swing to the brigand's chest. It failed to penetrate the thin sheet of armour the thug had been wearing, but the way the brigand slumped over groaning indicated he wouldn't be a threat for a while.

The only door at the far end of the entranceway was currently closed, but the lock seemed rather old and worn. Franz started towards it. A single swing and it'd probably give way…

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement.

Whirling, he caught sight of a young blue haired youth hiding in one of the alcoves. A long, navy-blue cloak covered most of his body.

"YOU!" Franz cried. He was the reason they were here in the first place. Exploding into action, he swung his sword in an upward motion as he charged, a movement that should have left the thieving rogue impaled on his blade – had the youth not skipped nimbly to the side.

Franz was prepared. Using his left foot as a pivot, he abruptly reversed the direction of his swing, slashing in a horizontal motion that caught the thief unawares. A hiss of pain, and a splash of red across the wall were his rewards. That technique training with Sir Seth _had_ paid off, after all…

But now there were both in the open. And he probably couldn't rely on either Neimi or Ross to keep up with the thief's speed…

"Ross! Guard the entranceway!" He said tersely. The navy haired thief spun around at that, catching sight of the two other people in the room. He uttered a muted curse, and was about to bring his dagger up to deflect another sword strike from Franz when –

"Wait!" Neimi's voice cried out. "Colm!"

Startled, Franz jerked back. An instant later, the blue-haired youth's eyes widened.

"Neimi! What are… what are you _doing_ here?"

Neimi had rushed to 'Colm's' side. "I – I came here with these people to find you… come on, it's too dangerous here. Let's… let's go home."

Colm pushed her away roughly. "We don't _have_ a home anymore, don't you get it? Look, leave it to me. I can deal with stuff here, but I don't need you –"

"I don't what history there is between the two of you." Franz cut in. "But _that_ man," He pointed to Colm. "Stole something from us. We want it back."

Neimi's eyes darted back and forth nervously. "Um, there – there's probably some kind of mistake… I mean…"

Franz sighed and glanced questioningly to Ross, who shrugged. In the distance, they could hear screams of surprise and the sound of pitched battle. The others had apparently made it inside, and it was in their best interests to join with them as soon as possible. But the rogue…

"We'll discuss this later." Franz said as he sheathed his sword. "Elsewhile, _you_," He said, pointing at Colm. "Are not leaving my sight."

* * *

Ka-chikt! 

"And in chest number two, a shiny new sword!" Colm crowed as he dug the weapon out from the metallic box. "Observe, ladies and gentleman, it's fine make, the straight gleaming edges! Perfect for a knight errant, or perhaps a mercenary fighting to make his living-"

"Do you do this _every_ time you open a chest?" Franz asked disbelievingly. "And how's that arm of yours?"

Wrapped up tightly in a bandage, blood still seeped through the wound in Colm's arm, staining it crimson. The wound from their earlier battle had been treated, but in Franz's estimation, it would probably leave a light scar.

"I'll be fine." The thief replied brusquely. "You wouldn't have been fast enough to take me down anyway."

"Fine talk when those are _my_ bandages you're wearing." Franz shot back.

The two of them, along with Neimi, were resting in what seemed to be the treasure room of the bandit's den. Shortly after breaking into the fortress, they had met up with the main group, and Eirika had reshuffled the roster somewhat on the fly, splitting them up into smaller teams to better spread out and search the area. After a couple of seconds of waiting, the restless Colm had wandered over and starting picking the locks on the chests in the room. Franz had only raised a token resistance to this 'stealing', seeing as he was far, _far_ too tired to really care, not to mention that all this stuff wasn't even the bandits' anyway, and tracking down the proper owners (assuming they were still alive) would take far more time than any sort of payback.

Of course, his knightly training for 'virtue' was probably going to make him hate himself in the morning. But that could wait.

Just then, the doors swung open, revealing Sir Gilliam in the doorway. "The remaining bandits have holed themselves up in what appears to be the primary chamber. Come." Was all he said.

"Understood." Franz was already on his feet, sword at the ready. Neimi followed also, fingering her bow nervously.

"Neimi…" Franz began. "You stay behind. You're not trained for fighting, you're drained physically and mentally, and a tired archer is only a detriment to his or her own side."

"Sir Franz… I…" Neimi nodded and managed a weak smile. "I understand."

"Good. You, thief. With me." Franz gestured with his sword to indicate Colm should walk in front, which the thief did with a resigned sigh.

As the trio of them wound their way through the hallways, he could hear the sounds of battle getting louder and louder. Rounding a corner, they burst onto the scene of bloody battle.

Garcia was in the thick of the melee, cleaving away bandits with his axe. Behind him and on foot, the General watched the older warrior's back, whirling his gleaming lance in close-quarters combat.

The two of them were generally having the worst of it in terms of sheer number of enemies facing them, but what they lacked in numbers they made up for in skill, and brigand after brigand fell to their blows. He could hear cries of battle gradually turning into shouts of fear and alarm.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the princess trying to fend off two bandits at the same time. Charging, he swung at the closer foe, trying to catch him unawares-

But the thug was alert, and he ducked, letting the sword stroke sweep over his head. Whirling, he brought his axe about in a chopping motion that would have gouged a chunk out of Franz's stomach had he not parried in time.

The heavy, clumsier make of axes were vulnerable to the swift, agile strikes of swords, and using that to his advantage, Franz pressed forward, going for a classic disarming move of jabbing the bandit's hand. The brigand, however, was better than most, he managed to bring his axe around far enough that his hand was now guarded as the sword clashed against the axe instead.

Now locked in a battle of sheer strength, Franz leaned forward, gritting his teeth as he applied all of his weight onto his sword, trying to push his foe back. Brawnier and more well-muscled, the brigand likewise exerted his strength, eyes flaring with hate as he too, sought to become the victor of this contest of might.

Then Franz twisted downwards and to the right, shifting his weight so that the surprised brigand was now pushing mostly against empty air. As he stumbled, Franz thrust with his sword and cut open his foe's stomach.

Blood splashed onto his face and eyes, partially obscuring his vision. Wiping it away hastily, he noted that the dead bandit had carried a vulnerary with him in back pocket.

_Waste not, want not._ He thought to himself as he stooped down to retrieve the healing salve. Just as his fingers closed around the gourd, a war cry from behind distracted him.

Twisting his head, he noted yet another bandit, heavily scarred, in the act of rearing back to gain momentum. He was obviously going to bring his axe down hard on the cavalier.

Turning and drawing his sword as fast he could, and yet at the same time knowing it'd never be fast enough, he watched as the bandit swung forward, his axe cleaving through the young knight's armour with ease…

At least, it _would_ have cleaved through Franz's armour had it come into contact with it. As it were, the thug was holding nothing in his hand at the moment, and the only damage Franz received was getting thumped on the shoulder slightly by the bandit's fist.

As both baffled warriors contemplated the sudden turn of events, with the bandit glaring at his hand he could by sheer willpower _will_ the axe to appear in his fist again, a cocky voice came from behind them.

"Ooh, now _this_ is a beat-up old thing. Look at the nicks _all_ over the blade." Colm said in a conversational tone as he clutched the bandit's weapon in his hand. "No, wait, don't tell me – let me guess how each mark was made." Pointing to the one topmost on the axe. "Now, lesse, _this_ one here was probably made when he tried to draw it and ended up nicking a nearby wall. This one here, now, that looks like he tried to carve up some chicken for a wee bite to eat. You can see the telltale grease. Now, this one over _here_ looks like he made it himself on purpose in order to boast he'd been in a battle- "

At this point, the bandit lunged at Colm, arms reaching out to simultaneously grasp at his weapon, and to close his hand around the youth's neck. Colm neatly sidestepped out of the way at this, and as the bandit charged past, a crimson line blossomed on his neck. The brigand slowed, staggered, then collapsed.

"That was for Lark." Colm said softly as he resheathed his dagger.

"…" Franz nodded slightly. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." The rogue said breezily. "Shall we continue?" The battle had already progressed further into the main chamber.

Franz nodded, and the two fighters ventured deeper into the halls, doing their best to end the fight quickly.

* * *

Approximately half an hour later… 

Franz sat on the ground, leaning against the wall, Neige at his side. The battle had been ended without serious casualties on their side, which was a good thing. They were going to need all the manpower they had for their expedition into Renvall. He closed his eyes, trying to snatch a bit of rest before they set out again. Seth had explained that haste was of utmost importance, and they would be setting forth again before the hour was out. The Silver Knight's endurance had been well-known among the trainees and squires. And he had generally lived up to his fame. Running a blockade with a potentially fatal lance wound was no easy task.

Princess Eirika had told him about his mentor's feat sometime in between leaving castle Frelia and arriving in time to halt the bandit attack on Ide. Along the way, he had also learnt, much to his chagrin, that King Fado had perished along with Castle Renais. Ephraim and the Princes were now the last remaining lights for Renais.

His train of thought was distracted by the sounds of a scuffle. Cracking an eye open, he smirked slightly as he caught sight of the General halfway in the attempt of frisking Colm. Colm, meanwhile, had pulled a gleaming bracelet out from his pack and was frantically waving it in the General's face in an attempt to cut short the search. Seth finally relented, taking hold of the bracelet and releasing Colm. A short conversation ensued, and Franz couldn't make out the words, but Colm was gesturing towards himself and Neimi. Probably requesting provisions or something…

* * *

"You're coming with us?" Franz asked the blue-haired thief with a measure of incredulity. 

"Yup. Talked it over with your leader. Turns out she could use our skills. Both of us."

"Mm." Franz wasn't sure how he felt about this arrangement. Of course, having more manpower would always be a good thing, as long as they weren't liabilities on the battlefield. But something about having a man who made a profession of thieving on their side didn't exactly sit right with him.

"Oh, by the way, this is for you." Colm said cheerfully as he dug around his pack for a bit, before pulling out a gleaming sword.

"Wasn't that the sword you got from the bandit's hideout?" Franz asked suspiciously.

"Maybe. What of it? Anyway, I noticed your old sword was getting a little banged up, what with all the fighting you've been doing. Thought you could use a new one."

"…Is this a friendship offering of some sort?"

"And what if it is?"

Franz hesitated for a moment longer, then reached out and grasped the sword, giving a couple of practice swings with the blade. It was a fine weapon, sturdy and sharp. "Thanks." He said, a little hesitantly. Colm smiled cockily.

"Use it to cover my back, and we're even."

"Everyone, prepare to move out." The General's authoritative voice cut through the chatter. "From here, we ride east towards Za'Ha woods. It should be the safest route available for us. Let's go."

The company began their slow trek eastwards.

* * *

Serafew at last! As Amelia stumbled into the border town, she probably would have jumped for joy had she not been so tired. 

Still, even in her exhausted state, she couldn't help but note how subdued the town appeared. What few citizens that were wandering about, even in midday, carried harried, unsure looks about them.

One couldn't miss the sheer number of soldiers bearing the emblem of Grado rushing about her. The entire place seemed more like a garrison town than the quiet border town she had heard people talk to her about.

Well, maybe her conception of it had been wrong. Didn't matter much, she supposed. First priority right now was finding an inn and taking a break for several days before heading straight for the Capital.

Finding one of the few citizens in the town square, she approached him hesitantly. "E-excuse me…" She began.

The villager jerked as if someone had stabbed him. Seemingly by instinct, he drew back from her fearfully. Then, seeming to recollect himself, he managed a quavering. 'Y-yes? What do you want?"

Amelia blinked at this unexpected display, but forged on. "Could you tell me where the nearest inn is located?"

The villager glanced over his shoulder, and then pointed to a building on the far side of the town square. "There." He said gruffly. "Now leave me alone."

Amelia opened her mouth to thank the villager, but he was already walking away. Scratching her head in puzzlement, she shrugged the incident off and headed towards the inn.

(X)

As she pushed the swinging doors open, she was assailed by all sorts of smells and voices typical of a bar. Waving away a burp from a patron sitting near the entrance, she tried to find the barkeep in as short a time as possible to get her room.

As she wandered past the tables she caught snatches of conversation floating throughout the area. Funny, based on the conversations, most of the people in here were Grado citizens. Where were the Renaitians? Wasn't this supposed to be a border town?

"Heard the princess fled to Frelia…"

"Tirado's receivin' heat from the capital over not being able to find that prince…"

"Did you hear? Three new generals in our army. They say now they'll have the power to crush the remaining countries…"

"Monsters have been showing up in Za'Ha woods just north of here…"

Amelia halted in midstep. Monsters? What was going on? Leaning over slightly, she tried to catch the remainder of what the weather-beaten looking man was saying.

"Or at least that's what they say. A whole bunch of Grado soldiers went in on a scouting mission, and only three of 'em came back in one piece. Said they fought zombies, skeletons, and some weird floating eyeball thingamabobbers."

"Ah, now _that's_ a tall tale to believe, Jake."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But I was there, man. I saw the scars on the soldiers' bodies. No blade or lance ever made those wounds. They'd been done _ripped_, man, ripped, I tell you. So, if any of you value yore health, stay away from that place, y'hear?"

_Monsters?_ Amelia shook her head at the thought. She'd stopped believing in fairy tales long before she even reached the age of ten, and here were men twice her age talking about monsters?

"What'll it be, little missy?"

Stunned out of her reverie, she noticed the barkeep looking down at her. "A room for the night, please." She said, pulling out her purse.

Stuff like monsters could wait. She had an army to sign up for.

* * *

"So this is Za'Ha woods?" Franz heard Vanessa ask Father Moulder as they ventured further into the leafy undergrowth. 

"Indeed. Rather gloomy, don't you think?" Moulder said conversationally.

"The trees grow rather thickly around these parts." He heard Seth say. "There _are_ a couple of villages further in the forest. We should be able to rest there for the night."

"Oh, good. A soft bed at last." Franz smiled to himself at that thought.

In fact, the prospect of having a sturdy roof over their heads, along with a warm, homecooked meal, seemingly cheered the entire party up, and their pace quickened noticeably.

None of them noticed the red, glowing eyes in the semidarkness.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	6. Thickening Darkness

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"_No fair!" Trish wailed. "I wanna be General Glen!"_

"_Grow up." Bragg snorted in his direction. "I called General Glen first, and Amelia's always General Duessel and that's that!"_

"_But then the only one left is stinky ol' Valter, and my mom says he's a meanie!"_

_Amelia lifted her mighty lance (actually a branch torn off a sapling tree), and said authoritatively. "Hey! Why don't you be the new one… Um… Serene…or something like that…"_

"_Ew, gross! A girl? And she uses magic! Magic is for wussies!"_

_The game had been played many times before, among all the village folk. Who didn't fantasize about being a hero, fighting to protect the safety of the common folk like them? Well, apparently most girls didn't, but Amelia had always been more energetic and active than the others, and had even won the grudging respect of some of the older boys by beating a couple of them in playground scuffles._

_Ever the mediator, Amelia scratched her head. "Well, how about General Glen's brother? Cormag's a wyvern knight, too!"_

"_I know!" Bragg laughed. "You can be a bandit, and we'll be the brave knights who come and crush you!" Neither of the other two noticed the sudden paleness on Amelia's face._

"_Hey!"_

"_Look at me! I'm Trish, and I like to act big and swing axes! Rar!"_

"_Cut that out!" Trish tackled Bragg, sending the both of them crashing to the ground._

_Amelia watched the scene for a few more moments, before turning and walking away quickly, before either of them could notice the silent tears. Hugging herself, she headed back towards the house in which she stayed._

_It was no longer a home. It would never be a home again._

* * *

Cold.

That was the first sensation she felt upon awakening. In fact, she largely suspected it was because of the cold that she had been jolted awake.

She didn't know what the innkeeper had used to make the blankets, but she had the distinct impression that he had gone with the lowest bidder.

Shivering, she curled up as much as possible, trying to conserve her body heat.

It was no use. The biting cold stilled sliced into her skin, leaving her with little to no hope of getting to sleep. Not in her current condition, anyway.

Sitting up and yanking open her pack, she dug around for a couple of minutes before drawing out a well-worn cloak. Throwing it around her shoulders, she paused to consider if she felt any better.

Yes. Marginally. Sighing, she considered walking around the town perimeter until she got tired enough that she'd fall asleep the instant her head hit the pillow, but given the fact that she could see the first faint glimmerings of dawn in the horizon, the sun would be attempting to fry her into submission long before she got anywhere near the exhaustion point.

Another gust of icy wind blew into her room, causing her to gather her cloak tighter around her. Ye gods, someone had to figure out a way to ventilate a room properly that didn't leave said room's inhabitants at the mercies (or lack thereof) of nature.

She wondered how the people back in Silva were doing. Unfortunately, she hadn't yet learnt to read or write – _that_ would probably occur as part of her training as a knight, and thus she had no way of communication with those at home. Not to mention the expenses of hiring a runner would probably be more than she could afford anyway.

It was still cold.

* * *

One truly had to wonder.

It wasn't everyday that you were betrayed by people you had long held as allies (although it still happened far more often than it should). But it had happened anyway.

It was usually rather rare (and foolish) to charge into enemy territory with less than a score of allied soldiers watching your back. But that was what they were doing anyway.

It made little to no sense to have a ragtag band of fighters chase down a single bracelet stolen by a thief halfway across Renais throughout the night, and end up with the thief and his childhood friend as an ally. But that had happened anyway.

And it was beyond all realms of logic and possibility that the exact same band should be busying themselves with fighting off a horde of monstrous creatures thought to be found only in fairy-tale books.

But it had happened anyway.

Franz stabbed downwards with his lance, the metal point shredding through rotted flesh and cracked bones. The creature jerked and staggered back, dark blood oozing through multiples wounds in its festering body.

These creatures could obviously take a lot of punishment, Franz noted unhappily, and they had a decided penchant for dishing it out too.

The zombie screeched at him, then reared back, it's fingers curled into claws. Most of the strikes so far had glanced of his armour, but a couple of slashes had landed on the seams of his armour tearing into the vulnerable flesh underneath. The claws may have been putrid, but they didn't appear poisoned, which was a good thing.

Stabbing again with his lance, he finally succeeded in putting down his current foe for good.

But that was only one in a growing tide of darkness that washed upon the tiny group of warriors. Darting in and out of the thick undergrowth, floating eyes hurled blasts of dark energy from all angles at the group.

"Franz!" He heard the General's call. "Fall back! Your flank is exposed!"

Franz nodded, and was about to steer Neige around when a sharp pain exploded in his shin. Casting a hurried glance downwards, he noted with alarm that the creature he'd thought dead had reached up, digging its claws into his heel.

_What on Magvel does it take to put them down for good?_ Franz thought frantically as he shifted his lance to stab at the zombie's head once more.

The monster finally shuddered, twitched, and collapsed, but a quick glance around informed Franz that he was currently isolated from the main party. The abominations seemed to have enough intelligence to try to isolate him before charging him from all sides.

Angrily, he spurred Neige into a gallop. A trio of skeletal creatures stood in his path, two of them wielding lances. As he approached, they raised it forward. If Neige didn't stop, she'd likely impale herself on them.

At the last instant, Franz whirled his mount to the side, striking down with his own weapon. The iron tip smashed through the eye socket of the first creature, efficiently destroying half of the monster's skull. The skeleton crumbled into a formless pile of bones.

The other two retreated slightly, giving Franz a slight bit of breathing room. He could see the Princess weaving nimbly through the trees, using the ancient woods as shields from the grasping claws of the zombie-like creatures. The young mage –Arthur, was that his name? – was busy fending off a trio of those eyeballs, blasts of light issuing nonstop from his hands to counter the dark spells they hurled at him.

A roar sounded from behind him, and Franz whirled around to see the zombie he had originally left for dead – _twice_ – stagger to it's feet and head towards him again. Dark green-brown blood that looked far too much like vomit oozed from half a dozen wounds in its body, and yet it marched resolutely towards him.

"Do you just not _die_?" Franz exclaimed in a mixture of anger and desperation. As one of the earlier skeletons tried to sneak up on him, he beheaded it with a quick backslash and turned back to the zombie-that-refused-to-die.

The creature reared back, raised a clawed hand, and promptly exploded in a ball of fire.

Franz's eyes widened. He wasn't about to call himself an expert on these creatures in any sense of the word, but he had a distinct feeling monsters weren't supposed to do that.

However, the source of the display of pyrotechnics became clear very rapidly as several more fireballs were flung from a gap in the trees, in a manner that seemed almost… _casual_.

With relative accuracy, they burned into several of the zombies, setting them aflame and causing them to stumble away, screeching in agony or pain or both.

Through the woods emerged the shape of a young girl with purple hair. A second later, Vanessa swooped in beside her.

"That was amazingly efficient, Lute." The green-haired sky rider noted with some sense of admiration.

"Well, yes, not _all_ of it can be attributed to my genius." The young girl shrugged. "Rotting flesh is notoriously weak to arcane fires."

In response to Franz's questioning look, Vanessa smiled slightly. "Found her in the village past the river. She insisted on helping."

"Right. Vanessa, could you go tell the General to try to clear a path for us?" The Pegasus knight nodded and took to the skies again, soaring past the treetops, and leaving Franz with the young girl.

"Er… Lute, was it?" She nodded in response.

"Right. There's a bunch of those zombies-"

"Revenants."

"Say what?"

"They're revenants. I know why you consider them zombies – they've entered common terminology as simply meaning 'reanimated corpses' and all that – but the technical definition of a zombie is a creature that is being controlled by an outside force not it's own – a living puppet, of sorts. So, while it is technically accurate to refer to them as zombies, it would serve to be less confusing that they be called revenants. Of course, some of them are far more durable than their lesser counterparts. The Tome of Etruscan Terminology, page 112, refers to these more powerful revenants as 'Entombed.'"

Franz blinked, unsure that he had gotten all that. "Right…" He managed. "Revenants. Anyway, there's a bunch of them cutting off our route from here to our allies, so if you'd be so kind?"

"Of course." She stepped forward, chanted several mystical words, and orbs of fire exploded from her hands, zipping towards the shambling creatures. Several flashes of crimson light, and three of them collapsed.

"Three down, five to go." Franz mumbled. He was about to charge them when he spotted a dark shape floating through the woods towards them. Another of the eyeball monsters (Lute would probably know the accurate term for those things) had spotted them.

Franz wasn't much for magic, but he knew enough that dark energy usually beat out Anima magic, which Lute utilized. The young mage was still focused on gathering her energies for another spell, and had yet to notice the ambush.

Then it happened. The eyeball darted out, somehow managing to shriek despite the utter lack of a mouth, and darkness began to gather in its eye.

Franz swung his blade in a wide arc, gashing into the creature's tentacles that trailed behind it. This apparently caused the creature to be knocked off balance, and the shadow-spell flew harmlessly past Lute's shoulder to envelope one of the revenants attempting to charge her.

As the wounded creature flailed on the ground, Franz quickly disposed of it with a quick stab to the eye. Lute, meanwhile, finished her next spell, felling two more of the remaining four zombies with a fiery blast.

Just then, an axe tore through the torso of one of the remaining revenants, and the creature flopped to the ground. Light exploded from the trees, searing into the last revenant, and staggering him. Swooping down, Vanessa stabbed up with her lance, rending through the monster's chest. It staggered, twitched, then fell.

"Franz!" Garcia emerged from the trees. "You are unharmed?"

"Couple of scratches, I think one might have the potential to be serious. Nothing major, though, Sir."

"That's good." The muscular man glanced around. "I think this is just about the last of the bunch. Sir Gilliam and the General are finishing off a last batch northeast of here. Come on; let's get you to the village. And who's the lass?"

"My name is Lute, a magician of superior wisdom, rare ability, and incredible combat prowess."

Garcia raised an eyebrow at this answer, then shrugged it off, and waved the two of them to follow, which they did.

* * *

The rays of the evening sun cast and orange-red hue on the entire town of Serafew as Amelia allowed herself a tiny stroll around the town square. She planned to spend a couple more days resting here and replenishing both strength and supplies before she made the final stretch to the capital.

Taking in a deep breath of the fresh country air, she glanced over in the direction of Renais. She'd heard that it was a beautiful country, full of clear rivers and vast plains, craggy mountains and lush forests. Maybe she'd get to visit there one day-

"You! Halt!"

The respond was a yelled command, and Amelia instinctively glanced around to see who might have been the origin, and the recipient.

The origin was readily apparent – an armoured soldier with a scraggly moustache was pointing and walking towards… her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Amelia quickly ran through a list of any possible transgressions that might have occurred during her stay in Serafew. Her recollection turned up blank; she hadn't even littered.

"You've got some cheek staying out past the curfew, Renaitian! Come on, it's off to the Captain with you!" The soldier snapped as soon as he came within conversational distance.

"But… but I'm…" Amelia sputtered, head whirling. Curfew? She hadn't heard anything about a curfew… "What are you talking about?" She finally managed.

"Are you thick or something?" The soldier snapped. "It's past the third watch – all Renaitians are to be indoors! Don't try to wiggle your way out of this one, Renais scum, you're going to-"

"But… but…" Amelia floundered, and finally latched desperately onto a seemingly insignificant fact he had gotten wrong. "But I'm not Renais. I- I'm a Gradian citizen."

"Eh? What's that? Don't try to mess with me, girl. You and I both know that all 'Grads' here have to have registered with Captain Saar."

"No, no." Amelia protested. "I mean – I come from Silva. I'm a visitor, staying at the inn."

That gave the soldier pause. Looking her up and down, he finally said. "Well, then, that's another matter. But look sharp, hear? If I find out you're lying, you'll catch it." Having finished, the soldier turned to depart.

"But… but what about the curfew?" Amelia blurted out. "What time-"

"You're a 'Grad', ain't cha? Don't bother your head about those things." The soldier departed, leaving behind a very confused and increasingly worried Amelia.

* * *

Dusk had settled upon the sleepy village and it's weary inhabitants. The locals had thanked them profusely for driving off the majority of the monsters, and had been glad to offer the ragtag band lodging for the night.

Artur and Lute had decided to accompany the band, partly out of thankfulness, and partly (on Lute's part, anyway) due to boredom. Right now, most of them were curled up in their rooms, slumbering peacefully.

Franz gazed out the window at the dark fog of clouds that roiled over the treetops. The flickering flame of the solitary candle by his side filled the room – or at least the corner he was occupying – with an ethereal glow. The wingback chair he was occupying was of good – if slightly crude – make, allowing his some measure of comfort.

So preoccupied with the scenery was he that he failed to hear the door creak open.

"Franz."

Franz turned, catching sight of the dim outline of General Seth on the edges of the candle's illumination.

Standing, he saluted. "General."

The Silver Knight acknowledged this with a nod, then moved closer and settled onto the chair close to Franz's own. Gesturing for Franz to sit as well, he began to speak. "How have you been holding up so far, Franz?"

"Fine, sir. I may be young, but I'm a sworn knight of Renais. I'll fulfill any duty given to me, to the best of my ability."

"Such spirit…" There was a gentle smile on the General's face. "I don't doubt you've improved significantly from the time that we set out. Your swordplay prowess has increased tremendously."

Franz blinked quickly. "Honestly, Sir?" Truth be told, he always seemed to barely survive his skirmishes through pure luck, and usually receiving several painful wounds in the process. On that note, he shifted his leg where the zombie – revenant – had dug into them, and found the pain almost gone. Father Moulder knew his work.

"Indeed." Seth nodded. "I knew I wouldn't regret my decision to take you on as my apprentice."

Franz flushed slightly, although it would have been hardly noticeable in the dim light. "Ah, I've always… considered that to be the greatest honour you could have bestowed on me."

"…You're still young, Franz. If your progress remains constant, you'll have surpassed even me by the time you reach the age I am now, for sure."

"Huh? Oh, no, sir, I could never-"

"What have I told you about saying that?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. But…"

Seth shook his head. "It's alright even if you don't think it possible. Just continue to train yourself up, Franz. Time has a way of revealing things."

"Yes, sir."

"By the way, Franz. Princess Eirika has informed me she plans to head for Serafew by tomorrow morning, so get yourself some rest. We've had three battles without any real break in between them."

"Understood, sir."

Seth stood, and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'.

Franz continued to watch the stormy night sky for a few more moments, before retiring to bed himself.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	7. Intertwine

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Serafew.

Once a border town between Grado and Renais, it had long been held as a symbol of the friendship between the two nations. Now, it teemed with soldiers bearing the emblem of Grado on their armour.

Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been complete suicide for the band of travelers to enter the fortified town, seeing as how a fair number of them bore armour with the crests of Frelia and Renais.

Today, however…

The steady roar of voices from the gigantic arena in the center of the town permeated the entire area. Today was 'Coliseum day', and no amount of invasions was going to change the flood of mercenaries and bravados who came from far and wide to test their skills and luck in the arena.

It was, quite simply, a logistical nightmare.

Lucky us, Franz observed.

Due to the massive crowd, it had been ridiculously easy to enter the city unopposed, and even unnoticed. The soldiers in the area seemed more concerned with the more disreputable characters amongst the crowd, and let anyone in armour pass by without paying too much attention.

Their goal was singular – make it to the vendors and obtain supplies for their journey to Renvall. Serafew was their last (and frankly, their only) stop that was a big enough town to possibly provide the stuff they wanted.

As General Seth and the Princess held an impromptu discussion over the best way to leave the town unnoticed, Franz busied himself with checking his personal supplies. His satchel contained a couple of vulneraries, herbs, spare cash, a coil of rope, a hunk of bread, and other miscellaneous items. Everything seemed to be in order… except he had forgotten to pack a torch. Careless.

Oh well. He could probably get one from the store later…

Glancing up, he noted that a serious looking male was conversing with the princess. With a slight bow, the man cut short the conversation and departed rapidly.

Franz watched him with slight curiosity. The man's garments seemed… well, rustic. Homemade, rough materials comprised the green cloak trailing behind him as he rounded the corner and vanished into the crowd.

The princess had turned her attention to other matters. Raising her hand and voice, she began to make plans for supply gathering. The general idea was to make it short and quick. The last thing they needed was to get into a fight in the middle of the town.

Time was running out, though… the majority of the crowd was disappearing into the the already-packed coliseum.

"Franz. You and Sir Gilliam round that alley. There's an armoury near the inn on the far side of town. Try not to attract attention." The general gave his orders. "The list of weapons needed are all here." The general handed the young knight a scrap of paper.

Franz nodded. "Understood, Sir." Several of the letters were confusing – he still didn't read very well – but he should be able to figure it out…

The green-clad knight was already heading down the direction of the alley. With a call for him to wait up, Franz hurried after his older contemporary.

* * *

"Well, what do we do now?" Franz said, questioning himself as much as he did Sir Gilliam.

The alley they had assumed would be unguarded had a fair number of Grado soldiers lounging lazily around. They didn't seem particularly interested in seeking a bunch of renegade warriors down, which Franz counted as a plus. However, their formation was worrying – they were arrayed in the fashion that blocked off all escape routes from the town square.

"Have they been alerted to us?" He mumbled to himself. In which case the others would be in danger…

"Circumstances have changed." Sir Gilliam said softly as he peered down the alleyway. "We head back to the others and discuss a change in strategy."

Franz nodded, and was about to turn back when a sudden uproar caught his attention. Looking frantically around, he caught sight of darts of flame exploding, followed by a blinding flash of light, partially obscured by the houses in the way.

"They've already been spotted." Franz said urgently.

The knights uttered mutual silent curses and were about to break into runs when there came another shout from behind the two of them. Whirling, they caught sight of a soldier rushing towards them, business ends of his spear at the ready. Behind him, several more people arrayed in the armour of Grado rushed towards them, drawing various weapons.

They'd been found.

* * *

Digging under the bed, Amelia finally managed to retrieve the low-heeled boot she had accidentally dropped under there earlier. Cramming it into her pack, she took a last glance around the inn room to ensure she hadn't left anything behind.

Nope. It was clean as a whistle. _Who invented that phrase, anyway?_ She thought to herself.

Shrugging her pack onto her shoulders, she headed for the door, pausing only to glance out the window as she saw several Grado soldiers rush past.

Anxiety and swirls of indignation thickened once again, and a frown replaced the normally cheery smile on her face.

She had originally considered asking the soldiers around the area for advice on signing up for the Grado armies, but after her recent experience with the authoritarian rule of Serafew, she had decided to forego the process in favour of simply asking around once she had gotten to the Capital.

After the reprimand of sorts from the soldier, she had observed the town more, and noted that many of the Renaitian citizens were downtrodden and oppressed. She couldn't find it in herself to believe any of them were bad people, let alone all of them. Neither could she decide which was worse, the fact that the soldiers mistreated the Renaitians, or the fact that the Grads, their longtime neighbours, didn't appear to care.

As she pushed open the door to her room, she silently paused to consider an incident that he happened just yesterday.

* * *

"_I said MOVE, Renais dog! Commander Saar doesn't have all day to deal with you!" The soldier growled disgustedly as he gave the stumbling man in front of him a hard shove. The villager was sent sprawling._

"_Stop, please!" The old man pleaded. "I – I never meant any disrespect! I just-"_

"_Oh, shut it and move!" The soldier snapped. "You didn't bow and greet me, and that's enough to get you sent to the clappers for a month. You know the law."_

_Amelia had watched, stunned, as a man old enough to be her grandfather was pushed roughly along the streets. As the feeble person managed to pick himself up to a semi-walking pace, Amelia found herself hurrying forward towards the two. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted with a sense of pained resignation that she was the only one actually paying any attention to the scene._

"_Stop – stop that!" Not very eloquent, but apparently forceful enough that both soldier and villager paused to look at her. She was then struck by the discomforting thought that she had no idea what she was supposed to say._

"_Why are… why are you doing this?" She finally asked. The soldier snorted contemptuously in the elderly person's direction._

"_Lack of respect to a Grado officer, that's why. And you'd better clear off too, Gradian or no, or you'll be in for it as well."_

_Amelia glanced at the old man's haggard, hunted expression, and made a split-second decision. "Look, is there anyway a… transgression like this could be made up in money? You know… a fine or something?"_

_The soldiers idly scratched his chin, seemingly not caring very much. "Fifteen." He finally said._

"_Fifteen silver? Okay, I…" Amelia's hand was already halfway to her purse._

"_Gold."_

"_Oh." Dipping her hand into the leather pouch, she drew out a handful of the gold sovereigns. Biting her lip, she stared down at the mass of them with uncomprehending eyes. Darn it, she'd never learnt to count past ten back home…_

"_I think fifteen is… ten and another five. Or was that a ten and another ten? Which one's twenty again?" Scratching her head, she finally picked out what she hoped was the right amount and handed it to the soldier._

_Without much apparent interest, he grabbed the coins, and gave the old man a shove with his boot, sending him sprawling. "Count yourself lucky, Renaitian." The soldier smirked. "Someone here apparently thinks your health is worth fifteen gold, for whatever reason." Whistling to himself, he walked off tossing the coins back and forth between his hands._

* * *

After 'rescuing' that man, he'd thanked her, and hurried away, presumably back home.

The incident had ended, but the memory refused to let go. Hidden deep within her was a question she was doing her best not to face, the question of whether Serafew was the exception or the rule.

Drawing in a deep breath, she shook her head. "I believe people are good." She whispered to herself. "I believe in humanity."

With a brisk stride, she headed downstairs.

* * *

The point of the steel lance embedded itself into the wall just behind Franz, a quick jerk to the left being the only thing that had saved the cavalier from losing an eye (and a chunk of his brain).

His slashed at his opponent with his sword, missing by inches as the soldier leaned back. Back-kicking against the wall, Franz darted forward and crouched at the same time. A quick swing of his blade and there was one less opponent to deal with.

The narrow alleyway was, unsurprisingly enough, working to their advantage, as the soldiers were forced to engage them one by one, lest they ended up stabbing someone on their own side. What wasn't so pleasing, however, was the fact that unlike the goons they had faced near Border Mulan, these soldiers definitely knew what they were doing.

Openings came far and few in between, and the fairly inexperienced cavalier was still doing his best to keep them at bay. None of his earlier fights against inexperienced bandits and frail, shambling monsters had prepared him for this. The fact that he was, by and large, more used to combat on horseback didn't help matters.

Gilliam, by contrast, appeared to be doing wonderfully in comparison. The silent knight never uttered sounds other than the occasional grunt as he used his lance to drop one foe after the other. The power behind his strikes easily crushed the defensive stances any of his foes used, and the pile of defeated and disabled opponents around him was growing.

Catching a sudden glint of light, he dodged to the left, letting the arrow flit harmlessly by. _Blasted archers._ They'd been relatively quiet throughout the fight, unwilling to risk firing into their own comrades, but when they saw an opening, they took it.

With a grunt of exertion, Franz managed to block the slash aimed at his head, and deliver a kick to the soldier's midsection. The man stumbled, knocking down the soldier right behind him.

A lance would probably have been more effective in the current situation, given the inordinate amounts of swords and spears the enemy were carrying in comparison to axes, but he still lacked the combat experience necessary to use spears properly in close quarters, melee combat.

A wild stab with a knife slammed into his shoulder, sending a jolt of agony through his arm. Uttering a cry of pain, Franz staggered back, then swiped at the knife-wielder with his sword. The soldier had been overconfident, and paid for it dearly.

Trying to defend himself with his good arm, Franz staggered backwards, fending off the seemingly endless multitude of blows his next opponent was raining on him. Luckily enough, their numbers seemed to be thinning.

Just then, he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye.

Something slammed into him from behind, stumbling Franz and pitching him to the ground. His wounded shoulder impacted with the dusty floor, sending a fresh wave of pain through his body that slowed down his reaction to the new threat.

Rolling over, the cavalier saw that the Grado soldier that had snuck up behind him standing over him with a spear aimed at his heart. A helmet hid the soldier's eyes, but he could see a smirk on the man's mouth.

The lance pierced armour and flesh, tearing through the knight's heart.

Franz was still alive. The soldier wasn't.

Gilliam tore his spear from the dead man's chest, swinging it again in an arc that laid flat the last of the melee soldiers. The only foes left were two archers, already turning to make a retreat.

A javelin stabbed through one of them, and Vanessa swooped down, finishing off the last one with a quick thrust to the head.

Franz lay winded on the ground, each gasping breath compounding the pain from the dagger lodged in his shoulder. Reaching over weakly, he grasped the knife for an instant, then managed to pull it out, uttering several words that were unsuitable for print as he did so.

Gilliam crouched down to observe the wound as Franz rummaged around in his satchel for the vulnerary he knew was in there. "It's bad. But not fatal." The older knight finally diagnosed. Rising to meet Vanessa, he nodded. "Dame Vanessa."

"Sir Gilliam. The princess was worried if you had ran into any unexpected trouble down here, but it appears you had it handled. Excellent work, both of you."

Franz gave a grim chuckle as he poured the curative mixture on his shoulder, before quaffing a dose of it himself. He'd survived, once again, largely due to luck and the help of a more useful companion. Sir Gilliam had also handled the majority of the soldiers, and he didn't even appear out of breath.

"What about the princess? Is she alright? How many soldiers?"

"Yes, she's fine. They're not actually hunting us. A cleric from Grado is apparently the fugitive in question. We've been able to hold out, and the latest order is for us three to circle around the alley and meet them at the far end of the town square.

Gilliam nodded, turned towards Franz. "How's the wound?"

Franz gave a practice swing with his hand. The pain had dimmed – Father Moulder could see to it properly later. "I'll be fine." _Working under the assumption we don't run into another crowd of soldiers, of course._

"Right." Gilliam signaled the three of them. "Let's move."

* * *

On the last step before the landing, Amelia tripped over a snag in the wood, sending her crashing to the stone floor. Painfully.

"Ow." She mumbled as she rubbed her sore forehead. Then, glancing up, she noted that her pack had opened up as she tumbled, sending the contents careening over the floor.

"Great." With a sigh, she crawled over and began picking up the various items that lay scattered over the area, while ignoring the rather pointed glare of the innkeeper. At least her lance was still securely attached to the bag…

* * *

A quick stab with his blade finished off the last of the soldiers that had tried to ambush the trio, and Franz continued down the alley.

"Grado's forces would be arrayed for chasing down a single renegade." Gilliam intoned to Vanessa, who had chosen for the time being to ride her Pegasus as a horse. "We're lucky that more of their soldiers haven't arrived here."

"I've told you before, Sir Gilliam. I don't believe in luck." The sky rider said, smiling.

Franz was only half-paying attention to the conversation. Despite the battle, several of the arena toughs were milling about, seemingly checking out the merchandise the town had to offer. The Grado soldiers apparently wanted to keep things low key. As he pondered, brawny, heavily tattooed man brushed past Franz, his war-axe clutched tightly in one hand. Franz barely spared him a glance.

And then they were out of the alley, just near the armoury.

"We're to meet them at the side of the arena." Vanessa said.

"Franz." Gilliam said. "No point wasting time. You go gather the weapons we need from the armoury."

Franz blinked. "But…"

"We can handle ourselves." Gilliam said gruffly. "If the odds are really too great, then you're not going to make much difference to the outcome anyway. Go get the weapons."

Franz nodded hesitantly. Then, turning, he headed for the weapon shop.

* * *

"Two more iron swords…" The Gradian vendor said. "That all?"

"Just about." Franz replied distractedly, looking down at the list. In truth, his mind was a thousand miles away. What had Sir Gilliam meant when he'd told him the outcome wouldn't be largely different? Was he truly so superfluous as a knight?

For all his recent battles, he was still a greenhorn in terms of actual warfare, and the recent skirmish had reaffirmed that. Was he still so inexperienced? The General had mentioned he was improving speedily, but then again, his mentor might have done that only to boost his self-esteem. Indeed, he didn't appear to bring to the table anything unique, and what he _could_ do others could, apparently, do better. He let out a long sigh.

_If that's the case… then the only thing I can do is fulfill the orders given unto me, to the best of my ability._ Raising his head, he turned back to the weaponsmith.

"When can you finish forging them?"

"I'll be done before the hour is out." The blacksmith promised.

Franz nodded and headed for the door, only to be stopped by the sound of the blacksmith's voice.

"Say… you're Renaitian, ain't cha?"

Franz tensed, hand instinctively straying to his sword-hilt.

"No, don't say anything. I know what the Emperor did wasn't right. I never said I know anything about what's going on, but the Renaitians in the town have always treated me squarely. If you want to help your countrymen, go after that Captain Saar. He's been making life here hell for your countrymen."

Franz paused slightly, then nodded. "Thank you."

Then he departed.

Once back out in the bright sun, Franz broke into a jog, eager to join up with the rest of his comrades.

He was stopped short by the sound of laughter. A trio of axefighters walking up behind him were talking amongst themselves. He was certain he'd heard the word 'pillage' somewhere in their conversation.

Ducking behind a building that advertised itself as an inn, he pricked his years, trying to catch the end of the conversation.

"… believe how easy it was to sneak in here!"

"What'cha expect? Today's 'Coliseum day', mates! The one day anyone with a weapon can stroll into town!"

"What say we start with this inn? It'll be near empty, and there's always good cash behind a barkeep's till."

_Bandits!_ The thought flared through Franz's mind with absolute clarity, and in an instant he was leaping from the shadows, sword drawn.

The bandits started, obviously unaware their conversation had been heard. Franz shifted the grip on his sword to a more offensive stance, and pointed it towards the biggest and most heavily muscled of the three. "Lay down your weapons." He said. "Now."

The brigands glanced at the crest on his armour, then the head one chuckled. "That so, knight? There's three of us, and one of you. So, look sharp!" The last word was said as the lead bandit exploded into action, axe swinging up in a horizontal slash that would have bisected Franz.

The young cavalier had already stepped backwards, letting the axe miss him be a hair. Bringing his sword up and then downwards in a chopping motion, he slowed the cut enough let the bandit block it as he simultaneously lashed out with his foot.

A _whuf!_ of air escaped from the brigand's mouth, and he staggered back clutching his stomach, but the other two had already charged, axes swinging wildly. The cavalier was grateful that the streets were mostly deserted – the bandits' random strikes would be as likely to hurt any passersby as they would Franz.

The knight parried a blow and twisted his blade, locking it with the bandit's axe. As the surprised thug let out a cross between a snarl and a yelp, Franz jerked the interlocked weapons, colliding it with the third's one axe.

As the three weapons strained against each other, Franz ducked forward, slamming his elbow into the second bandit. The shock of the impact caused the thug to release his grip on his axe.

With the triple strain on the crossed weapons reduced to two, the remaining bandit and Franz were both sent sprawling. The knight tucked himself into a semi-roll as he did so, allowing himself to recover faster, despite the jolt of pain that was sent through his wounded shoulder.

Glancing up, he noted that the first of the bandits was now standing over him, axe raised. "You had this coming." He sneered.

Not wasting time with words, Franz stabbed the bandit through the chest.

As he slid the limp corpse off his now-bloody blade, the remaining two bandits attacked again, but this time from opposite sides. There was no way he'd be able to defend himself from simultaneous attacks on his front and back. There was only one way around this.

As the bandit charging his front raised his axe to bring it crashing down on the cavalier's head, Franz half-spun to bring his sword up in a diagonal two-handed slash. The two weapons crashed against each other with a screech of tortured metal.

Not even waiting to see if he had been successful in deflecting the blade or merely halting it, Franz spun around again, this time to parry a horizontal cut from the brigand attempting to attack his back.

His sword was going to be his only worthwhile defensive equipment here – armour was notoriously susceptible to folding over from axe-blows. That cheering thought in mind, Franz switched to an offensive style, whirling into a seemingly random but extremely intricate series of sword-slashes that were designed to overcome any defenses an enemy might put up. It was an immensely complicated swordplay, and Franz had yet to master even half of it, but against untrained bandits it would hopefully prove rather effective.

In a matter of half a second, perhaps less, the brigand had let slip an opening, and Franz dealt the deathblow. There was a choked curse as the bandit collapsed, then nothing more.

_One last one…_ Was Franz's thought as he whirled around yet again – only to be confronted with a seemingly empty street.

Appearances are often deceiving. Before Franz had sufficient time to ponder the lack of enemies, he saw out of the corner of his eye a blur of movement, and threw himself to the side – a half-instant too slow to prevent the axe from biting into his leg.

The cut wasn't deep, but it hurt, and Franz was experienced enough not to put weight on it, which unfortunately left him in a half-crouch. The brigand let out a satisfied growl at the sight of the wounded knight and charged yet again, axe raised high. A clumsy, predictable attack, and predictability was fatal on any battlefield.

Franz readied his blade, judged the timing, boosted himself with his good leg, pushing too close to the brigand for his axe to do any good, and rammed his sword into the marauder's head.

As the adrenaline rush wore off, Franz slumped to the ground, panting for breath, eyes closed.

Nearly a full minute passed before he noticed the sun wasn't shining on his face, despite it being near midday.

Cracking open his eyes, he peered into the face of a Grado soldier, who was staring down at him. For some reason, the cavalier felt himself incapable of caring that he was probably going to be dead less then ten seconds from now.

The soldier glanced up the three corpses strewn along the relatively empty street. "This your doing?"

Franz nodded stupidly.

"And look at you all winded from three measly bandits. Renais' knights have really gone to the dogs."

Franz had a vague feeling he was supposed to be offended by the soldier's offhanded remark, but it was getting hard for him to concentrate.

The soldier half-turned and pointed to one of the few villagers who had been watching the fight with horrified fascination. "You there, get this boy to the inn! Now!"

The man nodded and hurried towards Franz, who glanced questioningly at the soldier.

The soldier refused to meet his gaze. "I never saw you. Understood?" Was all he said before he walked away out of the young knight's line of view.

Franz closed his eyes as he felt strong arms encircle him and lift him to his feet, head hung low as he stumbled with his companion to the darkened interior of the inn.

* * *

"Lessee, vulneraries, antitoxins… did I miss anything?" Amelia glanced around the bar, trying to see if any object had rolled off into some obscure nook of the bar. "Oh, right. Can't let myself forget torches for when it gets dark!" She was going to have to double her progress if she wanted to reach the Capital before the month was out, and nighttime traveling was going to be the best way to accomplish this. She'd be in relatively little danger – lanes that led directly to the Empire's heart always had heavy traffic regardless of the time of the day.

Shrugging her pack onto her shoulders, she nodded to herself. "I'm going to be the best soldier in the whole Grado Empire!" A foolish boast, but it was something she promised herself that she would work towards until her dying day. "I swear it." She said to no one in particular, an almost ritualistic way of affirming her inner decision.

As she headed for the exit, her eyes widened at the sight of a bunch of villagers shouldering their way in, half-carrying, half-dragging a knight that looked terribly beat up.

She'd heard something about a commotion outside – did this boy have anything to do with it? He didn't look much like a 'Grad', and the crowd around him prevented her from catching a glimpse of the crest on his armour.

Oh, well. Much as she felt sorry for the wounded knight, he appeared to be in good hands. Pausing to take a last look at the soldier's weary face, Amelia pushed open the door and headed out into the sunlit streets.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	8. Murk

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

(Five multi-chapter stories going on at once, and several more ideas that refuse to leave me alone. 'Bit off more than I can chew' is an understatement.)

* * *

Fighting hard to stay conscious, Franz never had the strength to actually _do_ anything much, and thus his head continued to loll weakly about as he blinked again and again in an attempt to get his eyes to focus.

Of course, being the stubborn little gits that they were, they remained singularly obtuse about giving him double vision.

This was ridiculous. He'd merely fought three bandits! The fight couldn't possibly have taken so much out of him, could it?

Finally, he was able to gain some measure of clarity and sharpness in his vision. Blinking, he caught sight of what appeared to be a torch left on the ground, lying unattended by the leg of a nearby table.

Closing his eyes, Franz conserved his strength for several minutes, before finally gripping the edge of the table. He'd been here long enough. The others needed his help.

Shakily, Franz managed to get onto his feet, although he could distinctly feel his legs trembling. Taking a deep breath, then another, he took two steps forward.

"H-hey!" The call of protest came from one of the villagers that had half-carried him inside. "You shouldn't be up so soon! You're exhausted, aren't you?"

"I'll be –" He paused for a moment as his vision swam. "I'll be fine," He said. "But thanks for your concern."

Steeling himself, he took another step.

_Clunk._

He glanced down at the torch that had hit his feet. It lay there, rocking slightly with the impact of his foot.

With a sigh, Franz stooped down and retrieved it, ignoring the sudden disorientation and buzzing sound in his ears. _Who knows? It could come in handy later._ With that, he continued on, exiting the gloomy inn.

* * *

After several minutes of walking, the drowsiness began to wear off, and Franz reached the outside of the town square. He could still hear the sounds of combat some ways off, but from he could discern, it appeared to be dying down.

Taking a deep breath, he took another step forward –

"I was wondering where you'd been." General Seth's voice floated up from behind him.

Turning quickly, Franz bowed slightly. "Apologies, General. I was – I was sidetracked."

"Mm." Seth nodded. "We're about to move out against the commander of this garrison. Apparently he's the one who's been commanded to hunt down Natasha."

"Natasha?"

"Ah, yes. You haven't met her yet. They should be regrouping near the coliseum. You'll have your chance to say hello."

Nodding, Franz took off after his mentor. After several minutes of steady jogging, they neared the flat-topped building that was essentially the landmark of the town.

The majority of their team had several wounds on their bodies, but the fight had been kept decidedly low-key, and the majority of the crowd in the arena didn't appear to have noticed anything amiss.

Good for them, then. As Franz reached the group, he noted that Sir Gilliam and Sir Garcia was missing. Upon reaching them, they reappeared around a side wall. Franz noted offhandedly that Garcia was wiping blood from his axe.

"We got the commander." Garcia said. "Caught him attempting to leave the city through the northern gates."

Franz glanced up. "Was his name Saar?"

"Didn't catch it. Why?"

"One of the villagers pointed him out to me."

"Ah."

Seth frowned. "Sir Gilliam. Your arm…"

The armor-clad knight gave a snort. "Flesh wound from his javelin. Nothing major."

Upon closer inspection, Franz noted the vast majority of their company bore wounds of one sort or the other. Then again, he wasn't much different. His shoulder was still giving him problems, and the cut on his leg wasn't helping matters any.

Seth stood with his hand cupped over his mouth, as if trying to make a decision. Finally, he spoke up. "We can't afford to sit here nursing our wounds. Grado may send reinforcements at any moment once they learn that we've been through here."

Franz spoke up. "Uh, general, we still need to pick up our weapons from the armoury."

Seth nodded wearily. "Alright, Franz, you go get the weapons. Vanessa, you go ahead and scout the area for any Grado soldiers in the vicinity. The rest of us, head for the tiny clump of trees Southeast of here. We can lick our wounds there. Both of you meet us there later. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

"Watch yer step, girlie!" The man snapped in her direction as she bumped into him.

"Oh… Oh! Sorry, sir!" She apologized frantically, anxious to avoid trouble.

The burly male merely snorted in her direction before stomping off.

Amelia sighed and adjusted the position of her pack on her shoulders, all the while trying not to bump into anyone. The road leading to the heart of the empire was far more crowded than she would have believed possible. It seemed every second that wasn't occupied by skirting around cracks or potholes was taken up with trying to avoid the seemingly endless stream of people, carts, and various beasts of burden hauling said carts.

Gulping, she sidestepped a donkey that walked by with bent neck and drooping ears as it's master berated it unceasingly.

_Why are people out here all so… grumpy?_ Amelia wondered as she continued. They were nothing like the kind and friendly people she knew from Silva and the neighbouring villages.

_Maybe it's a side effect of being so rushed._ She mused thoughtfully as she skirted by two soldiers marching resolutely by.

"Well, I hope I never end up like these guys." She said with a tiny chuckle.

Glancing up, she saw an inn up ahead. A smile graced her face and her step increased.

"Finally." She blew out in a long rush of air. "A chance to sit down in some peace and quiet."

* * *

"WAITER! I distinctly ordered three slabs of roast beef! There's only two here!"

"Ay! What kind of rundown joint makes ale like this? I demand a refund!"

"Hurry up with that stew! I have to be at Ragus by sundown!"

Amelia shook her head. "Okay, amend that." She said to no one in particular as she caught sight of an empty seat, apparently the last available one in the house.. "A chance to sit down."

An instant before she reached the chair, a man for whom 'portly' was a gross understatement settled himself on it and bellowed at the barkeep for a pint of whiskey.

Amelia stared stupidly at the occupied seat for a moment before turning away and rubbing her forehead. "Well, maybe I could lean against a wall or something…"

* * *

It was about an hour later that Franz caught sight of the group trying to be inconspicuous by the shade of several trees. They weren't too successful at it, but it was one those 'it really doesn't matter' situations, considering there were no hostile troops in the vicinity.

_A fact which I am profoundly thankful for._ Franz thought wearily as he tugged at the bag containing the freshly-forged weaponry. The thing weighed a tonne, and his leg wound from earlier wasn't helping any.

As he neared the group, he saw Father Moulder tending to Gilliam's arm wound, while someone garbed almost entirely in white was bandaging the leg of a red-haired mercenary.

"General Seth?" He called. "I've brought the equipment – agh!" He stumbled over a rut in the ground, sending a fresh wave of pain through his leg.

_Stupid bandit…_ He thought to himself as he settled himself onto the grass.

"Oh, are you injured?" A delicate, feminine voice asked. Looking up, he noticed the figure garbed in white was standing next to him, and was in actuality a female.

A stunningly beautiful one, at that. Based on what she was wearing, she was a member of the clergy. Her sapphire eyes looked him over once with concern clearly shining through, and she appeared, well, nervous.

Franz closed his eyes and nodded briefly. "Yes. Knife wound to the shoulder, and a gash on my thigh."

"Oh, a moment, please…" There was a slight pause, and Franz felt himself being engulfed in a wave of soothing energy. When it faded, the dull ache in his shoulder was completely gone, and his pain in his leg had faded.

"Thank you, milady." He said gratefully. The cleric appeared startled at this and reared back slightly.

"Ah, no – I'm no lady… I'm just…" She closed her eyes for a moment and composed herself. "I'm Natasha. I… used to serve in Grado's main temple."

Franz raised an eyebrow. "You're from Grado?"

"Ah… yes."

_Hmm… Vanessa did mention something about that earlier…_ Franz looked up at her. "Are you traveling with us?"

Natasha shrugged and managed a slight smile. "Well, I have nowhere else to go, really."

Franz nodded and closed his eyes. _I only hope she knows what she's getting herself into._

_Then again, **I** don't know what I'm getting myself into._ Franz let out a snort of silent laughter. "Thanks for healing me."

"No, it's my duty."

* * *

Amelia let out a huge yawn as she stumbled along the path illuminated in front of her. After napping through the heat of the afternoon on a rough and scratchy bed, she was making as much use as possible of the cooler nighttime hours to continue her progress towards Grado.

Of course, a fair amount of people followed this line of thinking as well, and the road was just as crowded as ever.

Amelia was now clutching her lance in hand so as not to accidentally wound someone who brushed too close to her. All around her, people were streaming pass, and if snippets of overhead conversations were to serve as any sort of indicator, they weren't in good moods.

Amelia rummaged around her pack, finally drawing out her map. Of course, it was too dark to make out the finely scrawled handwriting – at least not without the aid of artificial illumination. Of course, she had prepared for this beforehand, and now she could-

Amelia frowned as her hand rummaged among the unseen contents of her bag. It _had_ to be in there somewhere…

Her search turned up nothing, and angrily, Amelia yanked the pack open, trying to find what she sought in the din light.

"Oh, come _on_!" She snapped to no one in particular. "I _know_ I packed a torch before I set out from Serafew!"

However, the glaring lack of torches in her pack remained. Letting loose a frustrated sigh, she snapped her pack shut and hefted it onto her shoulders.

"Guess I'm going to have to find a replacement in the capital." She mumbled to herself. Of course, that would mean even _more_ money taken out of the budget. With a sigh, she continued down the road.

* * *

"The fog's getting thicker." The flame-haired mercenary said softly.

Franz glanced up as he silently urged Neige forwards. "You're right. We won't be able to see our hands in front of our faces at this rate."

From behind them, Vanessa smiled. "Although I suppose this means we'll be able to travel with less risk of being spotted by Grado forces.

The company was now nearing Renvall – approximately half a week's travel remained to reach the fortress. Thus far they had managed to avoid detection by staying within the forests of the country, but now they faced the Adlas plains.

Surrounded on both sides by mountains, the plains had to either be directly crossed or bypassed through an extremely long and roundabout route around the mountains, an act that would add another week to their journey, at minimum. After much agonizing, the princess had decided to take the risk of crossing the plains, for the sake of reaching Renvall as soon as possible.

Of course, perhaps whatever higher beings that happened to exist may have been smiling on them this day, for heavy fog had rolled in on them as they were about to cross the area.

The red-haired mercenary – apparently Joshua by name – smirked in response to Vanessa's statement. "Oh, perhaps, perhaps. However, I make it a point to always assume the enemy knows more than you do. Keeps me more prepared that way."

Aside from the noises of their boots and hooves tromping against the damp soil, and the sound of their armour rattling, all was silent. However, Franz couldn't shake the fact that he was starting to have an entirely too familiar _bad feeling_ about this.

Subconsciously, his hand drifted to his sword hilt, and the group moved ever onwards.

* * *

Thanks to narugurlee for editing advice. Please review. 


	9. Deep Breath

No Longer Alone

(X)

And on we go…

Disclaimer: I own nothing

(X)

Franz swung his sword in an upwards arc, mustering sufficient force and momentum to deflect the strike from his opponent's blade. The surprised cavalier reared back with the force of the blow, and then his horse reared back, keeping him out of the range of Franz's blade.

The young knight sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration as he wheeled Neige away, preparing for another pass at his foe. Even as he did so, his mind automatically replayed the events that had led up to this confrontation.

(X)

_It was the gleam that had alerted him. For the briefest of instants, he had caught sight of a flash within the thicket. A quick glance around, and he noticed Joshua had cocked his head slightly. Then, with seeming nonchalance, the mercenary unsheathed his sword, waving it slightly as if to admire his reflection in the polished blade._

_Franz was patently unsure if drawing his own weapon would have alerted attention, but after a moment's deliberation, decided the risk was worth it. The grip on his hilt tightened, and-_

_He was distracted by the sound of a warp rune carving itself into the air at the front of the company. As his attention was diverted, he saw a black robed figure appear in a flash of arcane light. Even in the dimness of the fog, he could clearly see the emblem of Grado etched on either side of the trains of his heavy cloak._

_A sneer appeared on the man's face as he made a mocking bow towards Eirika. Clearly surprised, the princess immediately drew her Rapier, aiming it at the man's heart._

_The dark-robed man merely chuckled, and wagged his finger in a gesture of rebuke. It was then that Franz noticed the line of spears appearing behind them, all wielded by silent soldiers on horseback. He closed his eyes and sighed. Perfect. Just perfect._

_Everything happened quickly after that. The man's attitude was harsh and imperious, and increasingly agitated as the princess seemingly refused his demands. Abruptly he drew his cloak back, revealing a trembling child gazing at the princess with imploring eyes._

_Franz's heart rose to his throat. Those monsters -!_

_But all too suddenly there was a roar of indignation from the dark-robed scum, and he vanished once again in a flash of light, along with the child._

_And from behind them came the steady beat of hooves as the horsemen urged their mounts into position._

(X)

Franz gave his head a quick shake to clear his mind of any wayward thoughts. _This is all wrong._ He thought unhappily. A knight was supposed to have his mind clear of everything else except the battle at hand.

Charging his opponent, Franz swung his sword in a hook-like swing, aiming for his enemy's midsection. His opponent reacted accordingly, shying away from the sword stroke –

And fell to the Javelin from above.

Vanessa offered Franz a slight wave before swooping off. Franz smiled, but deep inside, he couldn't help but feel jealous.

That was supposed to have been _his_ fight.

As soon as that thought appeared, Franz shook his head, dismissing it. A knight was not to seek glory for himself, but only for his Lord (or Lady, as it were.)

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of being dissatisfied as he continued riding deeper into the fogs, trying to source out the man in the dark robes.

(X)

Amelia let her pack slump to the ground as she wiped her brow, sitting down with her back resting against a fence post.

"Just a little more." She whispered to herself as she unfurled her map, tracing her route thus far a finger. "I'll be in the empire soon."

Suddenly, she was aware of someone's booted feet resting right in front of her. Raising her eyes, she came face-to-visor with a Grado soldier.

After her initial start, she opened her mouth, unsure of what to say.

"Get up." He snapped brusquely. "You're not supposed to sit by the roadside."

"Ah, I – I'm sorry." She began as she hastily clambered to her feet, but the soldier had already walked on, paying no more attention to her.

Amelia frowned slightly as this, but shrugged it off. The soldier probably had a lot of work to do – he obviously wasn't going to waste a lot of time on a simple rule like that.

Still, she was in dire need of a place to rest, and the ever thickening crowd offered scant hope of a quiet inn along the roadside. With a sigh, she shouldered her pack once more and continued down the road.

No sense in griping – after all, she'd probably see tougher work as a soldier.

That thought in mind, she sidestepped a man pulling a cart filled with fruits, and soldiered on.

(X)

This was ridiculous, Franz decided. Visibility was atrocious, and he could barely see where he was going, let alone whether or not there were enemy units he had to face.

With a sigh, he rummaged around his pack until he'd drawn out the torch he'd found in Serafew. Lighting it with a match, he smiled as the orange glow illuminated the immediate surroundings, allowing him a greater ability to perceive and counter threats.

One of those threats happened to be an axeman swinging a halberd as he came charging at him.

Franz's eyes widened, and instinctively, he jerked the reins of his mount, causing Neige to rear back. That act probably saved her as the long-handled axe flashed across where her forelegs had been a second go.

Utilizing the extra force the added height gave to him, Franz swept his blade down, bringing it hard onto the axefighter's head. The helmet cracked, gave way, and dark blood spattered onto the Neige's fur and his left leg.

Unhappily aware that the increased illumination also made him an easier target for the enemy, Franz nevertheless decided the risk was worth it if he could figure out where to go next.

Using the light to his advantage, Franz quickly spotted a clump of trees on the very edge of his vision. Shifting his grip on the reins, he steered Neige in that direction. As he rode there, he extinguished the light, once more shielding himself from enemy view.

Their situation was especially precarious – they would have to eliminate all existing enemy troops, otherwise they would run the risk of being spotted and hunted down on their way to Renvall. The unceasing waves of fog would make hunting them _all_ down next to impossible.

Well, he acknowledged. The next best option would be to eliminate the enemy commander – but he could be _anywhere_, and-

A bolt of sapphire lightning temporarily turned the gloomy vale into brightest day as it lanced down from the heavens at the cavalier's chest, launching him off Neige and sending him sprawling on the damp floor of the forest.

Feeling like he'd just coughed up a lung, Franz winced and managed to force himself into a semi-sitting position, where he could check the extent of the damage he'd received. Even as he did so, he was experiencing a sinking feeling at having to face off against mages. While their defenses – or lack thereof - may not be the stuff of legend, their range and offensive power more than made up for their shortcomings.

He noticed a single hole on his breastplate, cracked and seared black by the intense heat of the spell. Still it had probably saved his life – despite the burning sensation that filled his chest, the wound was noticeably smaller than he would have feared. The injured flesh was also scarred black and cauterized, preventing death from massive blood loss.

Of course, if another bolt happened to strike him in an unprotected area – say his head – the results would be explosive and not at all conducive to continued survival on the young knight's part.

Staggering to his feet, he noted a shifting in the mists that could have possibly been a cloak being thrown back. A second later, a faint glow emanated from that area, indicating that another spell was being prepared.

Wisely, Franz kept to a weaving path that was as much on purpose as it was due to the pain of his injury as he swiftly closed the gap between himself and the mage. One bolt of thunder, then another, surged down, throwing up clouds of loam, but never directly hurting the young knight.

Then he was on his foe, sword swinging in a high arc to cut the mage down even as he turned to run. The sword stabbed easily through the back of his opponent, and a dark spurt of blood further stained his armour.

Franz shook his head as he foe collapsed like his legs had been cut out from under him. Fighting in low visibility was a complete pain.

Now he had to find Neige. She had, unsurprisingly, fled once the bolt of lightning had struck him from her, and now she was missing.

There were probably more enemies in the woods, Franz surmised. It would _not_ be a good idea to whistle and call her over. That pleasing thought in mind, Franz set off on his own, trying not to hunch over and doing his best to will the hideous pain away.

He got two steps before dark energy roared from the ground, trapping him in an invisible field. He uttered a silent curse. Blasted mages.

As the shadows parted and allowed his captor through, he realized the dark-robed man from before. He glared with considerable annoyance at the young knight.

"They've come all the way here." He let out a sigh that was almost theatrical. "Must I do everything myself?" As he spoke, darkness began to gather in his clenched fist, and raising his arm, he aimed the growing sphere straight at Franz. With a gesture, he sent it on a relatively slow flight towards the trapped knight.

Struggling against the dark bonds that held him captive, Franz noted a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Then a blade, gleaming silver, slashed through the dark orb, shredding it and dispersing the magic gathered.

Joshua offered a grin to the still-captive knight. "Tsk. Careless, aren't we?"

Franz replied with a slight glare before he returned to the process of extricating himself from the magical trap.

Meanwhile, the shaman growled angrily at the failure of his spell. Turning to target Joshua, he raised his hands, preparing from a stronger incantation. The swordsman's blood-red eyes narrowed as he settled himself into a battle stance.

Black energy lanced from the mage's hands, twisting into snakelike streams as they sought to confound and entrap the agile swordsman. Ducking and weaving, Joshua's blade flashed once, twice, three times, dissipating many of the spells.

Changing tangents, Joshua now focused on the mage and charged, his curved blade deflecting the multitude of spells headed his way.

The shadowy spellcaster apparently also possessed a modicum of skill – he managed to avoid Joshua's rapid slashes, even sending a tiny dart of searing energy into the former mercenary's midsection. As the redhead stumbled and hissed in pain, the shaman was already weaving his next spell.

The spear shoved through his chest quickly put a stop to that. As the shaman's eyes widened and he choked out his last, incoherent words, Franz felt the field around him fade, allowing him to stumble a couple of steps forwards.

Meanwhile, Gilliam slid the dead mage off lance. "I'll report this to the General." He said in his usual brusque manner before walking off.

Joshua walked over, giving Franz a quick once-over look. "Wait, you were walking around with a wound like that?" He said, alarm in his voice. "We're getting you to Natasha. Now."

Franz didn't bother to argue – doing his best to keep up with the swordfighter, they stumbled out of the trees.

(X)

The battle had apparently been finished faster than expected – by the time they made their way to the solitary village in the area, the fighting had died down.

That was good news. What wasn't so good was that Franz felt worse with every step he took. By the time the walls of the village came into view, he had to lean on Joshua for support, else he would not be able to walk.

As they stumbled their way into the town square, Franz noted with relief that the fog was beginning to dissipate. In some corner of his mind, he wondered if some cosmic practical joke was being played on them – the fighting was over, and surprise! The main impediment is no longer there.

He could see Colm's head being bandaged by Father Moulder, with the young rogue looking rather sullen. Next to him, Neimi was fretting over Colm's wound, which only seemed to increase the youth's grumpiness.

General Seth was nowhere to be found, but Eirika was standing nearby, talking in low tones with one of the villagers.

Still, first priority right now was Natasha, who was hurrying towards the both of them with a worried look on her face.

"Ah, Natasha!" Joshua grinned. "Perfect timing. Here. Take a look at him, would you?"

Franz allowed himself to be lowered to the ground, and did what he could to assist in removing his armour and tunic so the cleric could tend to his wound. After that, he lay his head back, sighed once, and let oblivion claim him.

(X)

Amelia reached up, wiping the sweat off her face. As she did so, she closed her eyes, letting out a gasp of air.

She was more drained than she thought was physically possible. The last two inns she had entered had all been full, thus denying her rest.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. She was on the last stretch.

"Keep at it." She told herself. "I'm on the last leg… I'll be in Grado soon."

Doing her best to lift her ailing spirits, she shifted her pack into a marginally more comfortable position and continued on.

(X)

"Wake up, Franz."

A rough jolt jerked the knight out of his slumber, and he sat up sleepily, glancing around. "Where-?" He mumbled. The stuffy air in the carriage didn't help his drowsiness any, and on all fours, he clambered towards the opening of the cart, where the voice rousing had come from.

He blinked in the harsh light of the midafternoon sun, noting that he was located in one of the carriages that comprised the supply caravan. The General was riding next to it, and apparently he had been the one who called.

"You've been asleep long enough." The slight smile graced the General's face. "Natasha tells me you _should_ be fighting fit by now. Do you feel up to it?"

"Y-yes, sir, general!" Franz fumbled his way over those words, before taking a jump out of the carriage.

It had been five days since the incident at Adlas plains – perhaps unsurprisingly, taking a thunderblast to the chest had been the most serious injury received by the entire crew. Despite Natasha's best efforts, steady rest for the majority of the five days hadd been the only way he'd be ready for the upcoming fight.

Whistling for Neige, he broke into a smile as he saw his faithful steed come cantering up. She had been smart enough to hang around the General vicinity, and Lute had found her wandering around the plains, eating grass.

Of course, she had expressed it in terms of her express genius being able to devise an algorithm for locating the three most probable locations of a horse in a field of set radii, but Franz had been rather spacey due to some medicine Natasha had provided him, and hadn't really caught all the details.

He supposed he should be grateful for that.

Now they were nearing the lake fortress of Renvall, and seeing as there was no other way to break past it's defenses, Eirika had opted for a head-on assault. That the plan was likely suicidal crossed Franz's mind once or twice (or more), but loyalty to both the General and his liege Lady had kept his mouth shut. It wasn't as if they _hadn't_ realized this was going to be an incredibly dangerous move.

Past a tiny gap in the trees, Franz could see the spires of Renvall in the distance, glinting in the sun. Soldiers moved about the area, obviously on routine duty.

Franz shifted slightly, felt the ache in his chest. Irrelevant. He wasn't going to let that stop him now.

"Let's go, Neige." He whispered softly.

(X)

Amelia stared, openmouthed, at the vast towering gates of the Grado capital.

She'd known it was big, but she'd never thought it would be so… massive.

For a brief, fleeting moment, as she stared at the towering edifice, she forgot her exhaustion.

Massive, gleaming blocks of obsidian stone lined the gates, soldiers standing guard on the ramparts as they watched the seething mass of humanity before them.

Amelia closed her eyes, gathering her courage. "I'm here." She said softly, a silent announcement to the city. "I'm ready."

There was a slight pause, pregnant with anticipation for her alone. She held no delusions of grandeur – the people around her couldn't have cared less if she told them she wanted to be a soldier.

She was doing this… for herself.

"Let's go."

(X)

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	10. Friend and Foe

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Reaching up, Franz gingerly bent aside the branch that obscured his vision, allowing him to see the three Grado soldiers picking their way through the clearing. A patrol, and a fairly regular one.

As the three of them vanished back into the leafy undergrowth, Franz settled himself back to think.

The area was guarded on both sides by ballistae, so it would be to their advantage to remove any archers or people who had the requisite knowledge and skill to fire the gigantic arrows accurately. Furthermore, the main bridge that led to the fortress itself was uncovered, which would be a haven for arrows. Vanessa would probably be best served by riding her Pegasi as a regular horse. Taking the out boundaries out as quickly as possible would probably be the wisest course of action, and he really should be doing something about that footsoldier attempting to sneak up on him.

He dived to the side, drawing his sword as he did so. Parrying his enemy's blow, he leaned his sword just far back that the momentum of his foe's weapon – a large battleaxe – was not entirely diminished. Startled, the Gradian soldier stumbled forward, leaving a wonderful opportunity for Franz to knee him in the gut.

A 'whuf!' of air escaped the soldier and he collapsed to the ground. Before he could struggle to his feet Franz had already pressed the edge of his sword to his neck. "Don't move." He said calmly.

To his credit, the soldier didn't struggle. A moment later, the bushes parted and Neimi appeared, with Joshua following closely behind.

"I thought I'd seen someone sneaking up here." Neimi said nervously. "I-I was right…"

Joshua assessed the situation calmly. "Keeping a prisoner would slow us down. And we can't afford to have him running off to warn his superiors." He flashed a smile to the defeated soldier. "Sorry mate, looks like your luck's gone dry."

Just then, a crimson flash drew everyone's attention, and a fireball zipped through the clearing. Though it missed everyone, it exploded upon contact with a tree trunk, throwing burning embers throughout of the clearing.

Before Franz could react, he saw another bolt of flame on a collision course with him. Frantically, he threw himself to the side, and he could feel the intense heat of the fireball radiating off his cheek.

Rolling as he hit the leafy ground, he swiftly managed to get himself into a crouching position, and he heard a battlecry. Glancing up, he saw the barrel-chested warrior charging at him, swinging his axe wildly. Behind him, a dark-cloaked mage appeared between the forests, more energy gathering for another set of spells.

Frantically, Franz rolled backwards, once again narrowly avoiding having his spine severed. Slashing upwards, his eyes widened as his blade dug deep into the wooden handle of the axe, preventing the weapon from moving. Lashing out with his foot, he once more thumped the warrior solidly in the gut, doubling him over a second time.

He heard the sharp 'twang!' of a bowstring, and he caught sight of the enemy mage collapsing, an arrow sticking from his chest. Where was Joshua?

He was distracted by the axefighter struggling to his feet once again and dashing for the woods. Mumbling several unkind words under his breath, Franz headed for the swiftly retreating enemy soldier.

A silver blade flashed, and the axefighter was sent sprawling, minus a leg.

As he howled in agony, Joshua leaned back from where he had been hiding, wiping the handle of his sword. "Like I said, pal. Your luck's run out." He raised his sword once more…

"W-wait." Franz called as he sheathed his sword. "Joshua, help me keep a lookout for more enemy units. I'll deal with the prisoner."

The flame-haired mercenary cast a dubious look at Franz, but nodded his compliance and turned away. Franz knelt down by the wounded soldier and stared at him seriously.

"You can't escape us, and you won't be winning a fight with us. Tell us what we want to know, and you'll live. Agreed?"

The soldier stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, and nodded frantically.

"Right. Do you know where Prince Ephra –" Franz shook his head. Wrong way of doing things. "Have you seen a turquoise-haired lord about the area? Have you faced him in battle?"

"Pr- Prince Ephraim?" The soldier stammered. "I don't know much, but – but they say he's locked up in the castle."

"Right." _That agrees with what that black-robed man told us at Adlas Plains._ "Now, anything special about the castle defenses?"

"N-n-no! Nothing! It's just a typical castle with moats and stuff. I- I swear on my momma's grave!"

"Alright." Franz said. Then he gave a start and whipped his head up. "Who's there?"

Instinctively, the soldier followed Franz's gaze as well. While his attention was diverted, Franz quickly rammed his fist into the back of the soldier's head. His eyes rolled upwards, and the man slumped.

"Got some rope?" He called to Joshua.

"If he escapes-"

"He's not going to be able to do that after you chopped off his leg. Neimi, you have rope? Ah, thanks." Quickly, Franz bound the hands of the soldier. "He's already wounded. I'd rather he get to go home to his wife when all this is said and done."

He heard a tiny snort from Joshua. "Hmph. A kind heart. So I was right about you." He fixed the cavalier with a crimson gaze. "You wouldn't have let me kill him earlier either, would you?"

Franz struggled to compose himself, to sort the thoughts out in his mind. "That's not – I don't – If… if I were fighting him on the battlefield and I scored a killing blow, I would not regret it. But to kill an unarmed – a helpless man… I can't do it."

"Well, if you feel strongly about that, then hold on to your convictions." His eyes narrowed. "But hold no illusions, Franz. The heart is a liability on the battlefield. If you cannot master it, it _will_ lead to your downfall."

Doing his best to keep his face impassive, Franz nodded.

* * *

Amelia blinked once, stretched, and yawned. Daytime already…

Excitement had kept her awake nearly half the night, consequently, she had the feeling whatever little rest she had wasn't going to be enough. Rolling out of bed, she rubbed sleepily at her eyes.

Stumbling down the stairs, she headed towards the barkeep. "Do you have anything to keep me awake?" She mumbled sleepily.

The heavyset man raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. "Well, lass, I've some stuff from Renais. I warn you though, it's not going to taste pleasant."

Amelia shuddered inside. What was it, some kind of herbal brew thing? "I'll – I'll take it. How much?"

"One silver coin."

After handing over the gleaming coin, she took the mug the barkeep proffered, raised it to her lips, and began to sip.

_Ugh._ The thing tasted like drainwater, and it burned going down. However, even as she tipped the cup back to drain the last drops, she could feel renewed vitality entering her body.

"T- thanks," She said, wiping at her mouth to get away the bitterness of the taste. "Do you know the way to the barracks?"

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, his expression clearly stating, "And what would a girl like you want with the Imperial Army barracks?" but his only spoken response was "Head to the end of this street and turn left."

Amelia nodded in gratitude, and went to gather her belongings.

* * *

The first of the two ballistae had been disabled.

Princess Eirika had decided to split up their tiny 'army' into two main battle groups, both aimed at wiping out the ballistae before rejoining to make the central push on the castle. In this the group Franz was part of had been successful.

"We should rest." Gilliam stated shortly before settling himself down by a tree.

"Shouldn't we… shouldn't we keep going?" Franz panted. "We should be meeting up with Lady Eirika's group…"

"I suppose, but considering I suggested the rest for the sake of you, Neimi, and Artur…" The dark-haired knight raised an eyebrow in Franz's direction.

Franz cast his eyes downward. Well, he _was_ rather dizzy – even if it was no help to his self confidence to admit it.

This was stupid. He was a trained knight! Even if he wasn't as strong or experienced as General Seth or his brother or Sir Gilliam, he shouldn't have been grouped with a village girl that had never fought prior to joining their group, and a monk!

With a sigh, he walked over to the silent knight. "Sir Gilliam…"

"Hm? What is it?"

"Are you… are you unhappy, fighting alongside me?"

The knight frowned, with the result of him looking even fiercer than usual. "And why would you ask something like that?"

"Well, it's… uh… I always feel like… I'm slowing you and the more experienced fighters down."

Gilliam held his gaze for a long moment, then snorted and looked away. "I don't need to answer that."

"S-sir Gilliam! Please tell me!"

The green-clad warrior turned back to glare at Franz. "Listen to me, boy. I fight alongside you because my king has asked me to. How I _feel_ about you as a person, or as a fighter, is not relevant."

"But I-"

"Look, there are far better things you could be doing with your time than worrying about your lack of battle prowess."

"Like what?"

"Why, training yourself to become stronger, of course!" Gilliam replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Show me the potential of a knight of Renais!"

"Yes- yes sir!" Franz replied, more out of reflex than anything else.

Gilliam nodded and looked away. "I believe we've halted for long enough. To your feet." He told the rest of the band. "And let's be on our way."

* * *

"Well, here we are." Amelia said to no one in particular as she stepped through the gates. The soldiers standing guard by the entrance gave her an odd look, but nothing more as she walked into the sunlight drenched courtyard. Several armoured soldiers appeared to be sparring, their swords flashing brightly in the light of the morning sun as they clashed off their opponent's shields. She stood watching them silently for several minutes before she remembered the reason she was here in the first place.

"Now, where do I apply to become a soldier?" She asked, just as she noticed a long, snaking line off to the side, mostly filled with tough, burly men.

Nervously, she approached the man at the back of the line. "Is this… is this the line to sign up – to y'know, apply to be a recruit?"

The man, easily twice her size, glowered down at her. "Yeah. And if it is?"

"Ah, n- nothing. Thanks for telling me." Hastily, Amelia got into line behind the sullen looking male, and tried to appear inconspicuous.

* * *

Renvall, the water fortress.

It had been assailed many times in the long and wartorn history of the continent of Magvel. Many attempts failed. Some attempts succeeded.

And now another band had come to try again.

The bridge afforded little cover for any attacking band – the perfect opportunity for defending archers to rain down their covering fire on any charging army.

Which was why Franz couldn't shake the niggling feeling that _something_ was wrong as he spurred Neige on into a gallop. There were three archers manning the wall – still a definite threat to be looked out for – but that was far less than he'd expected.

An arrow whizzed by, glancing of his pauldron and leaving a faint scar. Franz grimaced and hunkered down further, trying to create as small a target as possible.

Up ahead, he saw an enemy knight, similarly mounted, waiting for the young cavalier to get into distance. Franz's eyes widened as he saw the enemy knight raise a javelin above his head, giving it an experimental twirl.

Franz quickly jerked the reins, and Neige skipped to the side, letting the javelin sail past, so close he could feel the wind on his cheek as he continued his charge.

"I am Murray!" The mounted knight bellowed. "I will cut you down, whelp!"

Not bothering to reply, Franz swung his sword out in a low arc, which Murray quickly deflected with bone-jarring force. And then they were past each other, hooves clattering on the bridge.

Swinging Neige into a tight arc, he caught sight of General Seth further behind, spurring his own mount into a gallop. Franz grit his teeth. In the time it would take the General to come to his aid, Murray would definitely be able to swing around for another pass. Well, he'd have to survive this one… although the strength from his opponent's sword arm made Franz rather… worried.

Regardless, they were soon charging at each other again. Above the heat and cries of the battle, he could see his opponent's eyes, narrowed with determination, sword raised high to bring it crashing down onto-

Then his steed stumbled, throwing Murray off balance, his lurching forward. Franz's eyes widened as he caught sight of a hatchet, digging itself into the rear left leg of the horse.

Almost by instinct, Franz swept his blade up, the gleaming blade biting deep into Murray's neck. A dark splash across his chest and neck signified victory.

Pulling back on the reins, Franz glanced towards Ross, who winced in pain as he tore an arrow out from his arm.

"Thanks for the save, Ross."

"Huh? Oh, anytime! I'm the son of the warrior Garcia, after all!" He grinned. "Tell you the truth, though, I was kinda surprised I actually hit him."

_Well you hit his horse, but close enough…_

"Retreat!" The cry sounded from the remaining soldiers of Grado, and as one, they turned back into the fortress.

"Get inside." He heard Eirika order.

Franz glanced up towards the top of the building, where he could see the two archers (one taken down by Lute), turning back into the building. Then he glanced back towards the entrance.

He didn't know why, but he was having a rather bad feeling about this…

* * *

It had been nearly two hours in the scorching sun, and Amelia was starting to feel faint. The fact that she couldn't help but notice people staring at her and speaking in muted whispers only made her more uncomfortable.

The burly man in front of her received some sort of stamped paper, and departed. Now it was her turn.

Mustering up every ounce of courage she possessed, and trying desperately to keep her legs from shaking, Amelia stepped forward.

The man up front stared at her with disbelief. "And what, may I ask, are you doing here?"

"I… I want to become a soldier. Of Grado." She hastily added. Then she kicked herself. _That wasn't necessary at all…_

The man gave her a long, hard look before returning to the forms on his desk. "Get out of here, girl. The life of a recruit is no place for someone like you."

Amelia stared at the man, dumbstruck. Somehow, it had never occurred to her in her wildest dreams that she would actually be _turned down_ for the position. Her fists clenched, trembling. No! She was so close! She couldn't give up now!

"Please!" She cried. "Just give me a chance! I'll – I'll prove myself to you! Look, I'll fight any of the soldiers out in the courtyard! Just let me show you-" She cut off as she noticed the man's expression was quickly becoming hostile.

"Look, I said no. Girls don't get into soldier positions, and that's that. If you want, you can apply to be one of the staff maidens. Now, like I said, go away."

"But I-" She was cut off by an annoyed shout from behind her.

"Oy! Hurry up already! We're tired of waiting!"

"Yeah! If you're not doing anything that get lost!"

"Let me have my place!"

Amelia just stood there, fighting back tears as she watched the future she had always built up for herself, kept in her heart and mind for years on end, crumble away into ash, all in an instant, all because of one stupid decision –

"What's all this ruckus going on here? You, soldier, tell me what happened."

The stern, authoritative voice cut through the increasing hubbub, causing Amelia to glance up. As she did so, her mouth fell open.

She had only seen him once before in her life, and that had been nearly a decade ago. But nevertheless, he was still unmistakable.

"G- general Duessel!" She blurted out.

* * *

The entrance hall to Renvall was silent.

Side by side, Franz and General Seth brought up the forefront, creeping slowly through the darkened halls.

Suddenly, Franz heard a thump in the distance. Boot against stone.

Someone was approaching.

Franz already had his blade drawn, as any rudimentary stealth class would have informed you that doing so closer to the enemy would have informed them of your presence with the ringing of the blade being brought out from his sheathe.

Seth motioned for Franz to stay slightly behind, and he moved forward. He glanced back, noting that the Princess looked slightly nervous.

The sound of a man walking rapidly grew louder and louder. The General took one step back, sword posed in a position to strike swiftly.

From around the corner stepped the pale shadow of a man, eyes wide, body haggard. Stumbling slightly, he nearly fell, only to be righted by General Seth quickly.

Franz lowered his blade. He knew this man.

"Sir… Sir Orson?"

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	11. Trials

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Sir Orson, among the most trusted and capable knights in all Renais. He would never have left Lord Ephraim's side of his own volition. If he were here… then maybe his brother…

"Seth?" Orson glanced up at the Silver Knight. "Why are you here? Where's Princess Eirika?"

"Sir Orson." The Princess stepped forward, eyes worried. "What have they done to you?"

Staggering back, Orson shook his head. "They locked me in a cell… for nigh on two weeks… with little food and water. I bided my time… finaly managed to escape." Leaning against the wall for support, he gazed imploringly at the Princess. "Lord Ephraim… he's still in there."

"We have to save him!" Eirika blurted out, and she quickly rushed down the corridor. Startled, Orson reached after her. "M-milady, wait!" When that proved ineffective, he took to his feet, hurrying after her, the Silver Knight following closely behind.

Together, they traveled further into the fortress.

* * *

As the party neared what appeared to be an indoor river, complete with stone bridge, Orson finally succeeded in catching up to the Princess. Seizing her roughly by the arm, he yanked her backwards, into the relatively darker alcoves.

"Princess, _think_! You can't afford to act so rashly!"

"But my brother-"

"Would be absolutely devastated if you got yourself killed on his behalf." His frown deepened. "Why are you here anyway? What has happened in Renais?"

General Seth stepped forward and gently separated the two of them. "Renais…" He spoke softly. "Renais has fallen. And King Fado… has perished in battle."

As Franz heard that, even for the umpteenth time, he felt a slight stab of pain. He couldn't help but feel – foolish as it was – that if he had been there, he could have done _something_.

Orson bowed his head. "Dead…" He whispered. "My king…" Then, gathering his composure, he looked to Eirika. "Princess Eirika, you and your brother are all that Renais has left. You _must_ look to your safety."

"…" General Seth gazed past the stone bridge. "Sir Orson… can you lead us to the prince?"

Orson nodded. "It's this way."

As they started across the stone bridge, Franz was certain he could hear the beats of war hooves. The grip on his sword tightened.

As he headed towards the General to inform him, he could hear Orson talking to the princess. "Is the bracelet safe, Princess Eirika? I don't believe it would be wise for you to carry it around – perhaps you should give it to me or Sir Seth. We can't let the Sacred Stone fall into Grado's hands – they could have Prince Ephraim's by now."

Almost immediately behind the general, Franz had to make a quick hop backwards as General Seth drew a sudden halt.

"Are we stopping _again_?" He heard Ross complain from near the back of the group.

"General Seth, we-" The Silver Knight held up a hand to silence Franz. Unsure of whether it was really worth interrupting the General, Franz took a cautious step back, ears pricked for further sounds of enemy movement.

"Sir Orson, there is something I must know." Seth said softly. Orson frowned in response to this.

"What is it? Can it wait? We have to go find the prince…"

"Yes, about that. Why would you escape from your cell yet leave Lord Ephraim behind?" Seth shook his head. "And that's not the only issue. Where are the patrols? Why was the fort so lightly guarded from the outside? Why have you, a single man, managed to make it all the way to the entrance? How do you know of the bracelet's connections to the Sacred Stone?"

Orson raised his hand in a placating manner. "Seth, there's some mistake here. I…"

"And most of all," Seth continued tersely. "Why do you conceal a sword in your doublet?"

Orson's eyes narrowed and he took two steps back, further up the bridge and away from the group. "Very well. It appears that I was careless. You're much sharper than I would have given you credit for, Seth."

Franz's mouth hung open. "Sir Orson! You can't mean… You haven't…"

The tramping of boots abruptly became much louder as a trio of heavily armed warriors appeared from a hidden alcove. The foremost of them raised his hand. "Enough, Orson. You've done well to lead them here."

Eirika's swallowed. "But I don't understand! Sir Orson, why would you betray us?"

"…" Orson hesitated a long moment. "My dearest wish will be fulfilled at last," He finally said, almost to himself. "To spend the rest of my days in the embrace of my loving wife."

"Enough, Orson. You may leave." The leader repeated. Orson dipped his head slightly, and strode off deeper into the castle. Seth took two steps forward, to be blocked by the spears of the leader's guards.

"Well, it seems we've snared a rather violent hawk." The man sneered, casting a critical eye at General Seth. "But the little dove has been included in the net, so I suppose I have no complaints."

"Who are you, cur?" Seth snapped.

"Oh, that's right. We've never met. My name is Tirado, talented aide to Master Valter." The man smiled. "And you, of course, are General Seth, who has had the honour of surviving a clash with the Moonstone."

"You're that monster's-"

"Where is my brother?" Eirika's voice cut through Seth's as she levied her Rapier at him.

Tirado regarded the weapon in a manner suggesting that he had been threatened by an infant waving a flimsy branch. "He's not here. Managed to evade capture a while back. Quite the stubborn one." He smiled genially. "Of course, now that we have the sister, I'm certain he'll be quite eager to come and rescue you."

"I'd _die_ before I let you use me in any way." Eirika retorted.

"That can be arranged. What's important is that Ephraim _thinks_ he has some chance of recuing you. Suppressing news of your bloody death should prove quite effective in that regard." Tirado snapped his fingers. "Oh, and relieving you of the bracelet should be far easier when they're pried from cold fingers. Cut off their escape route."

There was an explosion, and the far end of the bridge crumbled. Franz _supposed_ he should have been thankful that no one fell into the water, but the more pressing concern of several soldiers storming towards them occupied his thoughts.

"This doesn't look good." He mumbled to himself.

* * *

The Obsidian furrowed his brow. "Well? I'm waiting, soldier. What's going on?"

As he spoke, Amelia tried desperately to reform her thought processes into something resembling coherence. It was him! Not just anyone, but General Duessel, the Obsidian. The most revered knight in all of Grado, and the person she aspired to emulate in her life. And now he was standing not two feet away.

"A-apologies, sir." The soldier replied as he saluted crisply. "It's just a minor… disturbance. Nothing you should be worried about." Turning back to Amelia, he glared at her. "Get out before you cause any more trouble!"

Amelia clutched her fist to her chest, terribly unsure of how to act. She couldn't give up – not like this!

"Wait." The General looked directly at her. "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Swallowing hard, she shook her head and tried to speak without stammering. "N- no, milord, I- I'm, ah, rather sure you haven't."

Duessel smirked. "Milord, eh? That's something I haven't been called in a while." The smile vanished and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So, you want to be a soldier, hm?"

Not trusting herself to speak again, Amelia merely nodded.

Duessel turned to the soldier manning the booth. "I'll deal with her." He said as he rested a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump. "As you were."

The soldier saluted in affirmation and returned to his task while Duessel led Amelia away from the rest of the line. Once they were a sufficient distance away, the General turned back to her.

"Lass, I don't know why you want to join Grado's Imperial Army, but you hardly look the type for a soldier." The General breathed out a long sigh.

"I- I know!" Amelia said. "But… that's why I want to join! I want to become stronger… I want to be able to protect those close to me!"

Duessel frowned slightly. "I could almost swear…" He mumbled to himself. Then he shook his head again. "I've heard many people say those things before. And for everyone that made it, there was another who failed. What makes you a cut above the rest?"

"W- well, you won't know until you test me, right?" Amelia blurted out.

The ghost of a smile appeared on the General's face. "No, I suppose I won't." His gaze traveled to the lance strapped the Amelia's pack. "Draw your weapon, girl."

"Uh? Oh, er, okay…" Hesitantly, Amelia drew her lance and held it in what she desperately hoped was a fighting stance. Her eyes widened as the General drew his sword from the sheathe.

"All right, now come at me with everything you've got!" Amelia's jaw fell open.

"You… you want me to attack you? Seriously?" _I can't fight the strongest man in the empire!_

"I'm not in the habit of making jokes, I can assure you." General Duessel replied. "Now, hurry up!"

"I – I think I'm going to be ill." Amelia muttered so that only she could hear. Taking a deep breath, she lunged forward.

* * *

"Behind you!" Lute's cry gave Franz the necessary warning to throw himself out of the way of a volley of arrow-fire. As he hit the floor and rolled, the mage released a stream of fire that quickly sent the archers scattering. Even then, two of them were caught in the searing blaze, effectively removing them from the battle.

Clambering to his feet, Franz slashed at the legs of a charging axefighter, sending the burly man sprawling.

They had been lucky in one aspect. Fortress Renvall was built with narrow hallways and wide rooms, meaning that Grado's soldiers, however many, were forced to deal with Princess Eirika's band in smaller numbers at a time. Fighting their way towards a nearby chamber, they had thus far been able to survive with no casualties.

Not that it would ultimately make much difference to the tiny group when they were finally overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

As it were, he could see some of the less hardy members of their group already falling behind. Neimi was backed up against a wall, exhausted and nerves frayed. Ross was, for all his bravado, barely able to lift his axe any longer. Artur's hair was plastered to his forehead, a thick sheen of sweat visible as he chanted Light spell after Light spell. And Franz had a despairing feeling that he wasn't holding up too well himself.

Suddenly he felt a strange surge of energy in the air around him. Glancing around instinctively, he managed to catch sight of a dark shadow in the ground surging forth.

_Shamans!_ Before he could warn anyone, the Flux spell exploded from the ground, enveloping Lute in an orb of dark energy. The mage staggered, then collapsed.

"Lute!" Artur broke of his current spell and turned to tend to his friend. Unfortunately, this left the soldiers free to enter without fear of reprisal from magic. Uttering a loud curse, Franz leapt in to cover the gap. Swinging his sword in as wide an arc as he could, he managed to catch a soldier across the neck.

General Seth waded in with Sir Gilliam close behind. The green-clad knight silently bore the brunt of the enemies' attacks, retaliating whenever the opportunity presented itself. The Silver Knight, by contrast, made use of his greater agility and longer reach, dispatching his enemy with grim efficiency.

As Franz fought alongside his mentor, he couldn't help but notice the dark expression on the General's face. Sir Orson's betrayal had obviously shook the veteran knight deeply.

Forcing his thoughts back to the current situation, Franz continued his desperate struggle against the onslaught of foes. Locking blades with a swordfighter, he grit his teeth and shoved. Hard.

As another soldier lunged forward with a lance, Franz sidestepped, feeling the spearhead graze his arm as it stabbed forward. Grabbing the lance, he used it to pull the enemy soldier closer to him and drove his blade through the fighter's midsection.

Sliding the limp corpse off his blade, Franz took a half step back, panting with exertion.

Then he heard the cry of pain and surprise. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ross staggering back, clutching his midsection.

Too many casualties. Simply too many… Reluctantly, Franz broke free from the melee and headed towards Ross. As he reached the young axefighter, he knelt down beside him, pulling out a vulnerary.

Ross shoved his hand away weakly. "It's… only a scratch…" He mumbled.

"If that's a scratch, the Narube River is a puddle." Franz shot back. "Now hold still." Pouring some of the curative elixir onto Ross's wound, he nodded in grim satisfaction as the bleeding stopped, and the wound began to heal. Handing the flask to Ross, he indicated that he should drink the remainder of the mixture.

"Franz!" He heard a shout from Natasha, and instinctively he spun, bring his blade up high to knock aside the spear that had been aimed at his heart. The soldier stumbled, and Franz slashed at his belly, but his opponent was quick and managed to dodge.

_They've made it past the door?_ Out of the corner of his eye, he noted a larger sizable hole in the far wall. _They actually smashed through their own wall to get at us. Damn them!_

Garcia had leapt to fend off most of the soldiers attempting to pour in through the new entrance, but a half-dozen foes had already made it in. Two of them faced off against Vanessa, Franz was currently embroiled in battle with a third one, and the remainder were targeting Father Moulder and Natasha.

Lashing out with his foot, Franz caught his foe in the knee, snapping it back. As the startled lancer struggled to regain his footing, Franz slammed the flat of his blade into the lancer's unprotected head. He dropped like a stone.

Seeing that Vanessa had managed to fell one of her own opponents, Franz charged towards the trio that had been occupied with Father Moulder. Joshua had interspersed himself between the soldiers and the priest, but the mercenary was having difficulty handling so many foes at once.

Stabbing low, Franz caught one of the soldiers by surprise, piercing him through his leg. As he fell, he gave a cry of pain, causing another of the soldiers to turn halfway to see what had happened. As he did so, Neimi's arrow pierced his eye, dropping him. The last one was subdued by Joshua with a quick slash to the neck.

Franz offered a weary smile to Colm, who returned it. Abruptly, the smile turned into a look of alarm as his gaze was caught by something behind Franz.

Even as Franz whirled to block whatever it was that had spooked Colm, he felt fire erupt in his side. His precision thrown off by the intense pain, his sword merely grazed the armour of the lancer he had knocked out a moment earlier.

"Never leave your enemies alive, whelp." The gleaming spear-point was once more aimed at the young cavalier's heart.

"I'll make a note of that, thanks." There was a flash of gleaming metal, and the lancer's severed head tumbled from his shoulders. The body twitched, then collapsed. From behind, astride a magnificent war horse, was a knight clad in scarlet armour. He raised an eyebrow as he gazed down at the wounded knight.

"Turning your back on an enemy, bro? That's bad form, you know." Forde chuckled as he reared his horse back to slash down at another foe coming at him.

"F-Forde! Brother!" Franz blurted out as he scrambled to his feet, one hand clutched protectively around his wound. "You're alive!"

"Well, of course!" Forde laughed as he tossed Franz an elixir, which he gratefully accepted. "I ride with Prince Ephraim, brother. Death will have a tough bringing low anyone who fights by our prince!" Then he cocked his head to one side. "Is it just me, or have you grown taller?"

Franz managed a smile. "I have. And I'm a full fledged knight of Renais too!"

Forde nodded. "Where's the princess?"

"Over there with General Seth. But they're busy –" Franz was cut off as, quite suddenly, he realized that the area was devoid of living enemy soldiers. "What happened? Where did the enemy go?"

"Hm? Oh, we beat them off."

"_What?"_ Franz blurted. "They had two more divisions at _least_!"

"Well, I wasn't counting." Forde shrugged. "Hey, as long as there's no one left who's trying to kill us, there's someone I want you to meet. Hey, Kyle!"

A knight with dark green hair that Franz recognized as Sir Kyle stood conversing with General Seth, and a man with turquoise hair. Franz instantly recognized him as Prince Ephraim of Renais, and he dropped to one knee as a sign of respect.

"Feel free to get up." He heard a calm, collected voice say. "I'm never one for such displays in the most formal of occasions, but in the middle of the battlefield, one might hope that such matters of decorum break down a bit. Come on, on your feet."

Hesitantly, Franz straightened up again to look at the Prince in the eye. Meanwhile, Forde laid a hand on Franz's shoulder, once again reminding the younger cavalier of how Forde had this irritating trait of being an entire head taller than him. "Hey, Kyle. This is Franz. Franz, Kyle."

"Well met, Sir Franz." Kyle nodded.

"Franz? Name sounds familiar." Ephraim put a hand to his chin as he mused it over for a couple of seconds before snapping his fingers. "Got it! You're General Seth's pupil!"

"That he is, and a fine one at that." Seth smiled, and Franz flushed slightly at this praise. Ephraim looked to Forde. "He's your brother, right?"

"Correct, milord." Forde laughed again and placed his arm around Franz's shoulder. "And believe me, I am glad to see you."

"Me too, brother." Franz reached up to grasp the hand that lay on his shoulder. "Me too."

* * *

As she lunged, the General smoothly sidestepped, letting her tumble to the dusty ground.

"Ugh…" She mumbled, quickly grabbing her lance again and clambering to her feet. General Duessel watched her impassively.

"Again." Was all he said.

Trying desperately to focus, Amelia took another deep breath. She had to do this. She had to.

This time, instead of putting all her energy into an all-out lunge, she jabbed forward with her lance instead.

Instead of blocking, Duessel simply brought his arm up, knocking it off balance, and clean out of her arms.

Amelia winced as she watched her weapon clatter uselessly to the floor a couple of meters away, unsure if she was supposed to run after it or not. After a couple of seconds, she broke into a hesitant jog towards the weapon.

Picking it up again, she turned around to find Duessel facing her, arms folded. "You have one more chance to convince me." He stated.

Amelia couldn't see her own face, she wondered if the despair she felt was showing on it. To have come so far, and now this!

Lance in arm, she edged hesitantly towards him, unsure of just how and when to strike. Silently, he kept pace with her movements, circling to ensure that she never got close enough to him.

Finally, she struck. Trying to aim low, she struck towards his foot. All she needed to do was to get a hit on him, right?

The lance blurred so fast towards him that Amelia herself could barely see it. In the split second it took for her to think about it, she wondered if she might end up actually wounding the general.

_Thunk!_ The lance embedded itself into the ground. Amelia barely had time for her eyes to widen before she felt pain explode in her stomach.

"Unh…" She moaned softly as she staggered. Unable to bear the intense pain, she crumpled to the ground, clutching her gut.

"You can't even hold your weapon properly, I held back as much as I could while hitting you and you still collapsed, and by the way, you take a deep breath every time before you strike, which makes you extremely easy to predict." Duessel said calmly, as if he were doing nothing more than discussing the weather. "You're not soldier material. Go home, lass."

_No!_ Amelia scrunched her eyes shut, feeling around for her weapon and trying to climb to her feet, despite the jarring pain. _I have to prove I can be a soldier!_ "Please…" She managed to force out. "Give me one more chance."

"I think I've given you more than enough." Duessel replied.

Using every ounce of her willpower, Amelia dragged herself to her feet. "One more chance." She pleaded. "Just one."

There was a long moment of silence, with only Amelia's ragged gasps breaking it as she stared at the Obsidian. "Please…" She whispered.

Finally, Duessel nodded and drew his sword once more. "If you believe you can show me different, then prove it." He replied.

_No deep breaths before I attack. Have to keep myself balanced._ She frowned. How could she possibly outmatch the General. _Maybe… maybe if I try to fake him out._

She concentrated. Stealing a quick glance towards his left, she hesitantly took a single step to the right, unhappily aware that the general was watching her every move.

_Concentrate… concentrate… deep brea- ack, no! No deep breath!_ Amelia swallowed hard, levied her lance, and lunged again.

After taking a single step forward, she planted her right foot on the ground, using it as a pivot with which to swing around.

As she watched her lance tip hurtle towards the General's shoulder, all her awareness was pinned onto a single thought. _I have to succeed._

And then, abruptly, Amelia was no longer holding her lance. As she gaped in shock she was vaguely aware of something coming up beside her.

_Crack! _She felt something slam solidly against the base of her neck, and suddenly she was lying on the ground once again, watching the world go fuzzy.

_No… I can't…_Slowly, everything faded away into black.

* * *

After an impromptu strategy session (and a rather teary reunion on Eirika's part), the group had once more split into two, both cutting through Renvall to head for the throne room, where the only other exit from the fortress was.

The first group consisted of Prince Ephraim, Forde, Kyle, and Franz. The second group consisted of everyone else, Prince Ephraim being quite insistent on the fact that he didn't need any more soldiers. He had happily accepted Franz into the fold, however, after General Seth made a specific request as such.

_Maybe he just wants me to fight alongside my brother?_ The younger cavalier wondered idly as they continued through the hallways. Now that the need for a dashing and heroic rescue had worn off, Forde and Kyle had sensibly gotten off their steeds and begun fighting on foot.

Glad as Franz was to be reunited with his brother, he couldn't help but feel he was playing second fiddle to the three of them. Prince Ephraim was a monster on the battle field, his lance bringing death to foe after foe. In no encounter had he ever received a single injury, and Franz couldn't help but wonder how hard the Prince had trained to become as good as he was now.

Impressive as the Prince's fighting style was, however, it was Forde and Kyle who held the young knight's attention. While they might not have been as skilled as the Prince (although Franz was certain it would be a rather close match), they thoroughly excelled as partners.

Forde's sword and Kyle's spear blurred through the fight, always working in tandem. Covering each other's backs, splitting off to deal with individual foes, focusing together on breaking through a group, they were the living epitome of a team.

Even as he fought off his own opponents, Franz couldn't help but keep stealing glances at the two of them. They seemed to share a mind, so tightly concerted were their moves. While one dropped into a defensive stance, the other brought up the offensive, overwhelming the enemy with precise, rapid strikes.

As Franz continued to watch them, he realized that he would give anything to have as good a partner as Kyle and Forde were to each other.

That thought firmly in his mind, it was several more minutes before they reached the throne room. Ephraim raised his blood-stained lance cautiously as he approached the great double doors, Forde and Kyle standing slightly behind him. Franz brought up their rear, on the lookout for Eirika's group.

Abruptly Ephraim spun into motion, kicking the doors open. As the startled guardsmen brought their weapons up to bear, Forde and Kyle waded in, dispatching them efficiently as Ephraim charged Tirado.

Franz meanwhile, found himself in a swordfight with one of the guardsmen, and he was obviously skilled. Possessing great physical strength as well as speed, the guardsmen kept Franz constantly on the defensive, forcing the young knight farther and farther back. Twisting his arm to parry yet another blow, Franz vaguely caught sight of the helmeted soldier rearing one gauntleted fist back.

Instinctively, he let go of his sword. Even as it began it's plummet to the ground, Franz reached out and grabbed the guardsman's shoulder, pulling the two of them closer to each other. As the startled guardsman tried to pull away, Franz sidestepped and brought his other arm around to shove, turning the pulling momentum into a push.

The soldier's head collided into the wall, making a lovely reverberating noise, and he slumped to the ground.

Wary of committing the same mistake he had earlier yet not willing to stick a sword into an unarmed man, Franz settled for stomping his armoured boot as hard as he could onto the soldier's stomach. He received a strangled groan for his troubles.

Satisfied, Franz picked up his sword and turned back to face the others – only to find Forde pulling his blade out of the last guardsmen. Ephraim, by contrast, had left his lance where it was – shoved into Tirado's gut.

There was the tramp of boots, and Seth entered the chamber as well, weapon at the ready, relaxing only when he had ascertained that the only people capable of left battle-worthy in the room were the five of them. Closely behind, Eirika followed, stepping daintily among several of the pools of blood.

Ephraim gave a tired smile to the General. "Well, it looks like that's over and done with."

"Not quite." Seth replied in a low tone. "Where's Orson?"

Ephraim shook his head. "Not here. I still find it hard to believe he betrayed us."

"Ephraim?" The door to throne room creaked open slightly, and a young girl with indigo hair peered in.

"Myrrh? I thought I told you to wait outside until we were done."

"Yes, but… a wave of darkness approaches. We should leave, soon."

"Brother?" Eirika said, staring at the girl. "Who is this?"

"Oh, this is Myrrh. I'll explain later. First, we have to get away from this place. Follow me, everyone."

* * *

Several hours later, Franz stretched slightly as glanced out of the window of his room.

Renais may have had fallen, but it's network of spies were still intact. Ephraim had managed to contact one of them, and they had arranged for lodging at one of their safehouses.

Settling into the bed, he closed his eyes, allowing a smile to flit across his face. They had found Prince Ephraim, Sir Kyle, and Sir Forde (along with a rather strange looking girl), and they were all safe.

Tomorrow, they would start the long journey back to Frelia. That pleasing thought in mind, Franz drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Hey."

Amelia awoke to a throbbing headache, and someone tapping her on the shoulder. Shakily, she pulled herself together into a sitting position, wincing at the bright sun. Duessel looked down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do you feel all right?"

Settling for a simple nod, Amelia lowered her gaze as she got onto her feet. She had failed, after all. What else was there left for her? She could already imagine the looks she would receive as she returned to the village, questioning, judging –

"Congratulations, lass. You've passed."

It took several seconds for that to register in her mind. When it did, she stared up at him with an expression of complete shock.

"B- but how? Why? I mean – I didn't even touch you!"

"Few people could ever hope to touch me, lass." The General shook his head and chuckled. "I was testing you to see your spirit, to see if you were willing to stand up again and again." His facial expression became more serious. "If you want to be a soldier, you _will_ face disappointments and hardships far greater than anything I could have done in such a short span of time with you. Just because I gave the go-ahead for you to be recruited, doesn't mean there's no chance of you still not making the cut. Ultimately, though, it'll depend on you. Your strength, your courage, and your perseverance. Understood?"

"Y- yes, sir!" Amelia realized she was grinning like an idiot and couldn't stop. The General didn't seem to mind however.

"Give your name to the soldier, and you can leave. Come back here tomorrow at noon, though, understood?"

"Understood!"

* * *

Back at the inn, Amelia spread out on her bed, eyes closed as she let out a sigh of contentment.

She would rest well tonight, and tomorrow… tomorrow she would continue her path to become a soldier.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	12. Ache

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Amelia's eyes roved around the courtyard, catching sight of the various new recruits that had joined up.

A rather depressing thing she noted was that she was the only female in the entire company. Grado apparently wasn't too keen on employing women as frontline fighters.

She milled around aimlessly, glancing around. Most of the people refused to make eye contact with her, and those that did only held her gaze for less than a second before turning away, often accompanied with a snort of derision.

She shrugged. She wasn't going to let _anything_ put a damper on her mood today. She was going to be a soldier! At long last…

The sudden blare of the trumpet caused her to jump, and she noted that the iron gates that led further into the building were now creaking open.

Taking in a deep breath, Amelia shifted the weight of her backpack on her shoulders and headed for the entrance.

* * *

Picking up useful battle tactics was a way of life for most soldiers.

From every single battle, walk away with something new and useful. It'll help immensely when you finally run into that 'impossible odds, we don't have a snowball's chance in hell' type of battles. You still may not _win_, but at least you went down with a good fight.

Right now, the party was by no means facing an impossible fight, merely a routine Grado patrol that they had stumbled upon while trying to leave the country. Ephraim had groused about how his spies had assured him that this was a safe route before leaping into action, lance whirling.

Still, learning new things always helped. Particularly when Franz figured out that an extremely effective way of disabling an enemy soldier was slamming the hilt of your sword into their helmet with as much force as you could muster.

He'd already dropped three foes by this method. Granted, they hadn't been paying much attention, a large extent of their focus taken up by Ephraim swiftly dispatching soldier after soldier and coming ever closer to them. Still, a victory was a victory, however small.

As he hurriedly dug out rope from his satchel and set about tying the unconscious soldiers, he noticed the Prince watching him out of the corner of his eye.

When he had finished binding them to a nearby tree, he whistled, calling Neige over. As he waited, Ephraim approached him.

"Franz?"

"Milord." Franz glanced at him.

"Admittedly, I've only spent a very limited time in your company, but… I've noticed a particular trait about you. And when I questioned General Seth about it, he seemed to verify my… observation."

"Yes?"

Ephraim hesitated a tad longer. "You don't like killing people." He finally stated.

Franz blinked. "Is – is there something wrong with that, sir?" Neige had arrived, and he climbed up her.

Ephraim likewise had mounted his own steed. "Not in and of itself, of course." The turquoise-haired prince let out a long sigh. "But it can be, when on a battlefield."

_Ah. So that's what this conversation was about._ Franz shook his head. "I-"

"Ah, don't rib him about it." Forde's voice cut through the relative quiet of the emerald forest. He rode up beside the two of them, his scarlet armour gleaming in the patches of dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. "As long as he knows how and when to show mercy, mercy will never do us harm."

Ephraim barked out a short laugh. "Coming from you, Forde? I don't think I've ever seen you leave a foe alive."

"Hey, what about that time back near the Southern Border. I left _that_ guy alive."

"Yes, and you chopped off both of his legs. A fine livelihood he's going to have once things return to normal." Ephraim grinned.

"Look, all I'm saying is, if my little brother wants to let his enemies live, what's the problem? As long as he ensures that none of those he spares are in any fit shape to fight – what's the problem?"

"Oh, this is too much." Ephraim let out a chuckle and he began guiding his horse further away from the two of them. "Have it your way, you two. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if you came up to me and started asking me to let enemy soldiers join our army!"

* * *

The captain glared up and down the line at the row of recruits. Something about the manner in which he carried himself made Amelia want to curl up into a ball and hide.

_I guess they don't get promotions based on personality._ Amelia barely had time to let that thought pass through her head before the captain spat on the ground.

"Garn! I've seen recruits in better shape when they'd just finished a five mile jog than you ladies!"

_Ladies?_ Amelia quickly scanned the room – she was the only female here, and she had received quite a few stares over that fact. Glancing back at the captain, she noted his sour expression was still focused on the men.

_Oh._

"If you whelps want to stand with alongside Grado's finest, we're going to need a lot of work." Amelia noted, and decided she didn't much like the unpleasant gleam that appeared in the captain's eyes as he said so. "A lot of work, indeed."

Then he turned and waved his hand dismissively. "Get them to the fitting room and get 'em uniforms and armour. On the double! Move!"

As the new recruits dutifully turned and began to file out of the room, Amelia followed, keeping her head low. She hadn't been naïve enough to think that this was going to be anything remotely resembling a _pleasant_ experience, but at least she was-

"You there! Girl!" Amelia hesitated for a second, before turning around and ascertaining that indeed, the captain _was_ referring to her and not casting a derogatory label on another of the male recruits. As she did so, she reflected that this could prove a potentially annoying point for the duration of her service as a soldier of Grado.

"You're the one Duessel stood up for, right?" The captain scratched the back of his neck. "Damned if I know what he saw in you, but…" He trailed off, apparently looking for something, and leaving Amelia to process what she had just heard.

Two things shocked her. The first was that the captain had referred to General Duessel without first addressing him by the proper title. She'd heard enough murmurings to know that Duessel was losing favour with the Emperor over his continued opposition to the current war, but she couldn't imagine any of the common soldiers having anything but the utmost of respect for the Obsidian.

The second shock was that General Duessel had actually _stood up for her_. When he'd left her yesterday, she had been left with the profound impression that he hadn't thought very highly of her, though her ecstasy at being able to become a recruit had been so great she hadn't much cared.

Now, though, that he had apparently given a favourable opinion of her made her feel more… well, more _valued_.

"Ah, here it is!" The captain held out a slip of paper. "There ain't no women armour in the armoury. We'll need to get you custom uniform and plates. Get to this room and we'll do a fitting."

Amelia stared uncomprehendingly at the squiggled numbers on the paper. "Sir?" She said weakly. "I, uh, I can't read."

"Just go up the stairs, and walk down the hallway until you come to the door with the same numbers on it." The captain was already turning away. "After you're done, report to the courtyard. Move!"

Hesitantly, she headed for the stairs.

* * *

"Now, if you want to have a sturdier strike, you have to tighten our grip on point of impact, so your wrist remains sturdy and your blade doesn't fold back. Of course, that sort of teaching's no use if your fingers aren't strong enough in the first place, so we've devised a regimen for training our grips."

"Really?" Franz cast a dubious look at Gilliam. "Training for your _fingers_?"

The knight nodded sternly. "Every single muscle acts in relation to the others. You can't neglect _any_ part of your body if you want to become as strong as you possibly can."

"Under – understood."

Gilliam nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer and began detailing out the various exercises needed for the strengthening of one's fingers.

Through it all, Franz paid close attention, and he was rather certain he could feel his brother's amused gaze on him as they continued their journey towards Serafew.

* * *

"So… uh… how's it going?" She asked, desperate not to sound like she was making conversation for the sake of doing so, despite the fact that that _was_ what she was doing.

The seamstress making her new uniform didn't bother replying; choosing instead to raise her eyes enough to give Amelia a withering stare that effectively shut the young girl up.

"Well, we're in luck." From the anteroom a man emerged, carrying something thickly wrapped in cloth. "We've found a set of armour that should fit you." Hastily unfolding back the cloth that covered the armour, he stepped back. "Well, what do you think, lass?"

Amelia walked over, running her hand gently over the smooth red shell of the chestplate. It had apparently been preserved well – she couldn't see a single scratch or scar on the entirety of the armour.

"It's – It's great. Thanks." She stammered out.

"Done." From behind her, the seamstress stood, offering a maroon tunic with gold trim to her.

"Uh, th- thanks." She grasped it tightly, feeling the tough material bunch up under her grip.

"There's a room in the back. You can try on your new clothes and armour there."

"Okay, got it."

* * *

The tunic was a comfortable fit – for her less-than-amiable personality, the seamstress was good at what she did. Amelia paused for a moment, wishing there was a mirror or pond nearby with which she could see herself.

Then gingerly, she picked up the chestplate of her armour. After staring at it for several seconds, she tried to get the two halves of the armour-piece around herself so she could begin buckling it. The effort was a clumsy one, resulting in a lot of unnecessary noise.

"Need any help?" Came the offer from beyond the door.

"I'm fine, thanks!" Amelia yelled back, and nearly losing her grip on the chestplate in the process.

Finally, she managed to fasten the thing around herself, and turned next to the pauldrons. She could spot the places where they were supposed to fit over her chestplate, and she worked quickly to attach them.

Last came the belt, along with the hipguards. They were relatively easy to fasten, but Amelia was aware that the armour was uncomfortably heavy, and she couldn't help but wonder how she was supposed to fight in that thing.

Finally, it was complete. She swung the door open and walked out.

The man stroked his whiskered chin and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, it looks good. The tunic is comfortable?"

"Yes, sir."

The man turned to the seamstress. "Three more of those, same measurements, by tonight." The seamstress merely nodded, never lifting her eyes from the work.

The man turned back to her with a kindly smile. "Well, lass. Best get yourself to the courtyard. Wouldn't want to keep the officers waiting."

* * *

Before she even emerged into the sun-drenched courtyard, she could hear the bellow for the new recruits to fall in.

Quickening her pace, she hurried to the rapidly congregating mass of people, noting unhappily that her armour was weighing her down far more than she would have liked.

As luck would have it, she was the last one to arrive, and hurriedly took a space in the back file.

"You there, recruit."

She glanced up and saw a man with a mop of scarlet hair looking at her.

"Step forward."

She obeyed, albeit hesitantly as she made her way to the front of where she was standing.

"Y-yes, sir?"

"You were late." The man's eyes shifted from her to roam over the rest of the soldiers.

"In fact, _all_ of you were late." He said calmly before his eyes returned to rest on her. "But _you_ were the latest."

Amelia could feel her cheeks burning. She ducked her head, looking at the ground.

"Look at me when I talk to you." She swallowed and swung her gaze back up.

"Recruit, a question." The man folded his arms, leaned back slightly, and continued in a conversational tone. "If I were to say, tell you to be at the courtyard at the passing of the third watch, what time should you be in the courtyard?"

Amelia swallowed hard. "A- at the passing of the third watch, sir?"

"A good answer." The man nodded. "And under normal circumstances, it would be the correct one."

"However!" He continued, his voice growing louder. "You have arrived late for your first assembly, and thus there must be punishment from it. Henceforth, whenever you are told to arrive at a particular time at a particular location, you are to arrive and fall in a full half-hour earlier." His eyes hardened. "You will be under the command of many different officers of the Grado Imperial Army, but you can rest assured I _will_ ensure my punishment is strictly adhered to. If not… well, I'll leave you to dwell on the consequences." He turned back to Amelia.

"Recruit, get back in line."

"Yes, sir!" Saying so, she hurried back to her position.

"Now, I had assumed that we would be going for a leisurely jog as a way to get yourselves warmed up, but I'm afraid your tardiness has slightly compressed our schedule." He nodded thoughtfully. "You'll still need to complete the requisite ten rounds around the courtyard-"

_Ten rounds?_

"But instead of the twenty minutes as originally planned, you get fifteen. Get going, recruits! Move!"

Suppressing an urge to groan, Amelia willed her body into action.

* * *

Several days later, Franz stretched and yawned as he settled himself down on a bench near the town square of Serafew.

After reaching the place, they had confirmed that Grado forces in the area were at a minimal level, and after carefully stowing away anything that might mark them as being from Renais or Frelia, Ephraim had given them leave to do as they saw fit.

On that note, he reached up, massaging his aching shoulder. Shortly after the Prince had dismissed them, Forde had approached him for a round of sparring. He had laughed and promised to hold back for his little brother's sake, but Franz wasn't sure he noticed any distinction. Well, at least out of the seventeen duels in which he had crossed swords with his brother, he'd managed to eke out a victory in two of them. That was _something_, he supposed.

"Franz?"

He glanced up to see General Seth standing in front of him, arms folded and an approving smile on his face.

"I was watching you spar with your brother just now."

"Oh… you were?"

Seth nodded and settled himself down next to the young cavalier. "It's apparent to me that you're improving very quickly. Your parry is still a little stiff, but overall, your performance is astonishing."

Franz could scarce believe such words of praise, and coming from the Silver Knight, too! "Do you – do you truly think so, sir?"

Seth's smile quirked and he chuckled slightly. "Franz, why is it then whenever I have words of praise for you, you always seem to doubt me?" He flashed a slight grin. "Is it that you don't trust my judgment, hm?"

"Oh, no, no, no. Of course not! How could I? I mean – you're General Seth, the Silver Knight!" Franz paused. "You're my hero. Of course I appreciate your praise."

"Your hero?" The Silver Knight nodded thoughtfully. "Coming from my own apprentice, that is high honour indeed."

"But it's true!" Franz said emphatically. "I mean – back when Renais fell, you single-handedly broke through enemy lines and got the princess to safety. And all this despite being wounded, too." Franz shook his head. "Honestly, I know I'd never have been able to pull off something like that."

"Well! If you're going to hold me in such high esteem, how can I possibly fail now?" The General replied jovially. "You would lose all faith in me!" Then his face grew more serious. "And Franz, I've told you a thousand times _never_ to say that you could 'never accomplish something'. Do you think I achieved my skills when I was born? No, work – hard work, at that - determination, and never lifting mine eyes on my goal resulted in my battle prowess. And there are yet others who far surpass my capabilities with sword and spear." Seth looked at Franz. "I've taught you well – of _that_, at least, I have no doubt – and if you only keep at it – train your mind and hone your skills," The smile on his face grew wistful. "You will grow into a remarkable warrior. I only hope to be alive to see that day."

Franz was silent; trying to see his bright future the General apparently had no trouble envisioning. "General…" He finally replied. "I – I'll not let you down."

"Good to hear." Seth stood, apparently preparing to leave.

"General… if I may ask a question?"

The Silver Knight turned back to his protégé, a questioning look on his face.

"Sir, I'm not sure if this is overstepping my bounds, but…" Franz paused, searching for the right words. "Most of the time when we encountered Grado soldiers, they seemed rather… _focused_ on getting the bracelet around Princess Eirika's arm. Orson also mentioned that she should pass it to him – and when we were passing through the mountains, you insisted we get the bracelet back when it was stolen by Colm instead of leaving it be." He frowned. "Is there – is there something about the bracelet you're not telling us?"

Seth drew in a deep breath and nodded wearily as he ran a hand along the nape of his neck. "I should have expected you'd notice something strange about that affair." He shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Franz, but there are some things that you're better off not knowing, at least for the present. I hope to be able tell you soon enough, but until then, know that Grado desires the bracelets worn on the arms of both the Prince and the Princess – but they must _not_ get it."

Hardly satisfied with such an answer yet knowing this was the best he was going to get, Franz nodded slowly. "I understand, General." He finally replied.

* * *

The sun had nearly set when Franz made his way back to the inn where the group had chosen to lodge for the night. He knew that Forde would probably be at the bar, drinking the night away, but having never developed a taste for alcohol, Franz felt he would pass on that.

As he stepped through the doorway, the sound of a conversation being held floated up to him.

"Well… alright. If you really think so…" Natasha's voice, definitely. He glanced over to the side, where he noted Joshua standing there as well, swirling a drink in his hand.

"Well, I do. So keep it up." Franz quirked a smile. Was Joshua trying to seduce a cleric?

Natasha said something Franz couldn't quite catch, and as he leaned closer, he heard the flame-haired mercenary reply with a, "Nice smile."

A mercenary and a cleric… Franz shrugged. There were probably stranger things out there. Dismissing such thoughts from his mind, he headed for the stairs.

* * *

Next morning, halfway across the continent…

The trumpet blare pierced through the gray semidarkness of the early morning. Instinctively Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to deny the reality of her needing to arise and hoping to snatch just one more minute of rest.

Amelia had always had difficulty going to sleep, but after just one day of training, it hadn't proven to be an issue. The instant her head hit the rough fabric of her pillow, she was lost to the world. Getting up in the mornings, however, proved a far more taxing enterprise – not least of which because she ached in places she didn't know existed, let alone that those places were physically capable of aching.

She wasn't entirely sure, but the training regimen of becoming a Grado soldier seemed to involve putting the recruit through as many sadistic exercises as was humanly possible. Whether it was carrying a backpack filled to the brim with rocks to the countryside and back again, or lifting weights with her arms until she felt her fingers would never unfurl from their clawed grasps, the lot of a recruit seemed to be one of abject misery.

Almost as soon as the thought appeared, she banished it – or at least tried to. She had known it would be difficult, right? She just had to endure – her body had to grow stronger sooner or later, and then she'd get used to it.

Still, the fact that she had a pounding headache this particular morning made it hard for her to summon up any traces of enthusiasm.

Stumbling towards the courtyard, she noted with some chagrin that the officer in charge was already there, looking on top of the world.

"Well, you louts have rested enough, I daresay! Now, let's go for an invigorating and refreshing run around the compound! Fifteen laps ought to get the lot of you awake! Ready, GO!"

As Amelia instinctively broke into a stumbling jog while ignoring the pained protests from her leg muscles, she shook her head. Many of the recruits were definitely going to pass out at the breakfast table later – her included.

* * *

After several more days of this, Amelia was wondering just how much longer she could keep this up. Perhaps worst of all, in her estimation, were the constant, unyielding muscle pains.

Gingerly, Amelia nestled her aching body into a sitting position, trying desperately not to move anything too much, lest she suffered more of the unbearable muscle stress. She'd heard that this had to do with her muscles getting torn open and fixing themselves – that the end process of this would be stronger, tougher muscles, but right now the only thing she cared about was not interrupting said muscles in their no-doubt delicate act of repairing themselves.

Deliberately, she spooned the watery gruel that was supposed to be stew to her lips, drinking it in. Next to her, a male recruit of approximately the same age as her had given up the fight against gravity, his head slumped to the table as he slept peacefully.

Silently, Amelia calculated that she had 30 minutes for her breakfast, total. If she spent ten minutes eating, she would have enough time for a twenty minute rest – a word that was fast becoming interchangeable with 'nap', and begin spooning the food to her mouth at relatively faster speeds.

"Recruit Amelia! Is Recruit Amelia present?"

She twisted around to catch sight of who had called her name – and immediately regretted doing so as pain exploded in her gut.

Still, she managed to raise her hand while calling out, "Here, sir!"

The soldier nodded. "You're to report to the general office immediately. Get going – the commander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

With a sigh, she shoved the half-empty bowl to the side, stood, and followed him out of the room.

* * *

Amelia stood stock still, eyes wide open in shock.

"Me?" She squeaked. "_Assigned?_ T- there must be some mistake! I haven't even – I haven't ever-"

"No mistake." The commander looked at her sternly. "The missive was very specific, not to mention you're pretty much the only female recruit of the batch, so it _is_ rather hard to mistake you for someone else."

Amelia swallowed hard. But how was she supposed to fight? She had little to no battlefield experience despite her training – they hadn't even gone into proper lancefighting techniques yet!

"You have two days. By nightfall of tomorrow, you are to be fully packed, and ready to depart for Port Kiris as part of a small squad of soldiers." The commander's expression softened. "For what it's worth, you're mainly going on an observation mission, so don't get too worried, lass."

"Al- alright." She stammered. Bowing, she hurriedly exiting the room, all the while wondering what in the world the future held for her.

* * *

"So before you go to sleep every night, you flex and relax your muscles – it'll loosen them up and prevents you from getting aches the following day."

"A wonderful technique, indeed!" Gilliam looked suitably impressed, although Franz personally felt it was hard to tell, given the expression on Gilliam's face hardly ever changed.

"So… would you like me to teach you?"

"Of course!"

"Great, so here's the first of the exercises. You have to-"

The entire group suddenly ground to a halt. As Franz glanced up, he realized that, at long last, they had returned to Castle Frelia.

Somehow or other, they had succeeded on their absolutely insane mission to find and rescue Prince Ephraim, and now they had safely returned to Frelia.

Franz allowed himself a tiny grin as ranks of Frelian soldiers filed out, ready to escort the returning soldiers back into the castle.

Victory. It was a sweet feeling indeed.

* * *

Franz blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair as he stood on the balcony of his quarters – at least for the time being.

Prince Ephraim certainly had surprised them all with his announcement. The group had been located in one of the many halls of Castle Frelia when the lord of Renais had rounded the corner.

"_Ah, there you are." Ephraim cracked a smile. "Gather 'round, all of you. I've some good news."_

_Franz headed towards the prince, smiling slightly as he caught sight of Neimi fiddling hesitantly with her bow before stepping up as well. Apparently there were a few still unused to dealing with nobility that was open and forthright as Ephraim was._

"_I've talked to King Hayden, and I've convinced him to grant you use of the guest quarters for the next few nights until we set out again. You can go move your belongings from the staff areas."_

_Kyle's eyes widened. "You honour us all, milord."_

_Ephraim chuckled. " You – every last one of you – risked much to defend and protect what you hold dear to yourselves. If that is not worthy of honour, then I don't know what is!" He clapped his hands together. "Come on! You layabouts can go choose which room you want! Hurry up!"_

Right now he was dressed in a gown made of some light material that fairly glowed in the moonlight. His old clothes – stained with dirt, grass and blood – were to be thoroughly washed and cleansed before being returned to him the next day. And of course he had cleaned himself up before being allowed into a room as… well, prettied-up didn't seem quite the right term. Regardless, he didn't much fancy giving the servants aneurysms over scrubbing out dirt from the sheets. The bath itself had been rather pleasant, given that the water had been warmed prior to his stepping in – a rather pronounced change from the usual freezing cold of forest streams or ponds. He breathed out a long sigh – the nobility surely knew how to look to their own interests.

Well, his was the lot of a soldier, and he didn't feel inclined to trade it for anything – not even for luxury such as this. Still, as long as it was open to him, he was most definitely going to enjoy it.

After the traditional muscle relaxation exercises, he allowed himself to fall onto the delightfully soft bed. As he lay there staring up at the ceiling, he allowed his mind to wander.

Ephraim had mentioned that they would set out again – after a few short days. The young knight suspected that he knew their next destination; Frelia was currently embroiled in the battle with the bulk of Grado's forces, and there was no way Ephraim was going to allow himself – or his men, for that matter – to sit the matter out.

Still, there was time to rest for now – the heat and blood and confusion and battle was for another day. With a relaxed sigh, Franz allowed himself to drift off to sleep – completely at peace for the first time in almost a month.

* * *

It was an extremely worried and depressed Amelia that clambered into her bed, practically trembling with dread of what lay before her.

She didn't know the least bit about warfare or fighting – how on earth was she supposed to go on a mission as a soldier? Even if was only supposed to be observation mission, how could she possibly keep up with the other troops, all certain to be hardier and far more experienced? She was going to make a fool out of herself, and everyone would be unhappy with her performance, and…

Silently, she curled up into a ball, hugging herself tight. Everything in her was in a state of complete turmoil.

Finally, just before sleep claimed her exhausted body, she closed her eyes and whispered a tiny prayer.

"Mother, if you're up there… if you're watching… help me. Please."

* * *

Thank you for reading, please review. 


	13. Chasm

No Longer Alone

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"Councils of war…" Forde brushed his hair back as he gazed at the oaken doors. On its far side, Ephraim, Eirika, General Seth, Prince Innes, and King Hayden were in session, discussing the best course of action to take.

Franz remembered that the strange girl tagging along with Prince Ephraim – Myrrh – had also been present, at the request of the Prince. Idly, he wondered what that was all about, before returning his attention to his brother.

"A necessary part of wars themselves," Kyle intoned. "Lest you wish to perform random charges in random directions."

"Might beat loafing around doing nothing." Forde grinned. "Besides, we did okay for ourselves out in the Winterspring glades."

It still amazed Franz whenever his brother spoke of it – deep in hostile enemy territory, with only four fighters to their name, and yet they had outmatched Grado forces a hundred times their number. It was truly an incredible feat, and more than once Franz had expressed his awe at it being carried out.

"Yes, and we did so through careful planning and deliberation." Kyle shot Forde a glare. "What are the odds we've had lasted past two days if we'd simply charged every random group of Grado soldiers we met?"

"Funny," Forde replied. "I was under the impression we did just that."

"But _only_ after making sure our strength was sufficient to handle them!"

"What's the difference?" Forde chuckled. "We ride with Prince Ephraim – no matter how close the Pale Rider comes, he won't be catching us anytime soon."

"It's that sort of recklessness that-"

Franz had been watching the argument with a fair amount of fascination. Despite the exchange of words, Franz sensed practically no ire in them. It seemed to him much like a sword duel – only carried out with words, with a gentleman's agreement that certain areas were simply Out Of Bounds. Their relationship was a strong one, forged through countless trials, and not for the first time, Franz wished that he, too, could-

"HELP!" The cry resounded through the halls of the castle, and as one, the three knights turned to see a soldier staggering towards the conference room. Franz quickly noted a rather large wound on the soldier's abdomen.

"How did he-" Forde dashed over to the soldier. "Why didn't any of the guards help him?"

To his credit, the soldier managed a pained chuckle. "They're with my squad. Even worse off than me, they are."

"Hold still." Rummaging in his satchel, Franz drew out a vulnerary, pouring it over the worst of the large wound. The bleeding was staunched somewwhat, and some of the ragged flesh began to mend itself. Still, the soldier was going to require dedicated medical attention – and soon. Franz wished Father Moulder or Natasha were here right now.

"I must… I must speak to the king." The Frelian soldier drew in a deep breath. "Dire… dire news for him."

"Right. We'll go with you." Kyle replied, a worried look on his face.

* * *

The soldier was settled onto one of the many chairs in the room as he tried to gather his breath to speak. Franz was silently, his eyes scanning the conference room. Most of the attendees bore stern countenances as they waited for the soldier to speak. He noted Eirika with a concerned expression on her face, and Myrrh in the background, trying not to be noticed.

Finally, the soldier looked up, a dark expression etched over his features. "Milord… the Sacred… the Sacred Stone of Frelia… has been… destroyed."

Franz literally saw the colour drain from King Hayden's face. "What…?" He whispered. "I had the guard doubled just last week! How could-"

"The enemy forces… were led by… Selena Fluorspar and Caellach the Tiger Eye." The soldier spoke softly. "Before their might, we were crushed within an hour."

Franz frowned. The name of Selena Fluorspar was familiar to him – a general of Grado, said to be regarded second only to the nigh-legendary Obsidian, Duessel. Caellach, though…

He saw Innes folding his arms. "Caellach Tiger Eye. He's one of Grado's three new generals. I let my troops against his forces before. They were… formidable."

Hayden slumped down a chair, shaking his head. "How could I have let this happen? Our Sacred Stone… destroyed." He sighed deeply. "And if what you, Eirika, have told me proves true, then Grado's is long gone by now as well."

Franz frowned. Grado was trying to destroy the Sacred Stones? Well, that certainly provided a motivation behind this wretched war, but still…

"We cannot sit here wringing our hands." King Hayden's voice cut in, power and authority flowing through those words. "Grado's target is the Sacred Stones, and we must ensure that those that remain are protected." Hayden paused, weighing the options. "Rausten and Jehenna must be warned."

Forde stepped forward. "Milord, if I may?" At Hayden's nod, he continued. "This is indeed a tall tale to believe. The Sacred Stones are held in high reverence in our lore – to consider that one would try to destroy them seems… well, it seems absurd."

"Then I will go personally." Innes spoke up. "A visit from the prince of Frelia is not something they can ignore. If there are no objections, I will make preparations to depart for Jehenna."

"No objections, but I have a suggestion." Ephraim spoke up. "If you'll grant me command of Frelia's troops, I'll take them and assault Grado itself. If I succeed, then the threat to the Sacred Stones is ended." He sighed. "At the very least, my offensive should draw forces away from their attempts on the other Sacred Stones."

Franz winced. The sheer recklessness of the plan screamed against the rational part of his mind, but knowing the Prince, he wasn't about to back down.

"You've got your father's foolhardy courage, you know that?" Hayden smiled slightly at the memories. "Well, it's settled. Innes, I'll arrange for several troops to accompany –"

"No, I have contacts with a mercenary band. They're reliable enough for a relatively hazard-free journey such as this." Innes said with a slight nod of his head. "Those troops should be kept for some other task."

"If you don't mind, I'll be more than happy to accept those soldiers, King Hayden." Eirika piped up. Instantly, every eye in the room was affixed on her.

"You mean…"

"I will go to Rausten by sea and warn Lord Mansel" Eirika said softly. "I won't be left behind as a moth of peace while all those I care for go off to fight for what they believe in."

"Eirika…" Ephraim shook his head forlornly. "I'd argue against you doing anything rash, but…"

Eirika smiled to her brother. "I have made my vow, just as you have. I won't stop fighting until our land is restored."

"It's settled, then." Hayden formed a steeple with his hands. "Ephraim will take the bulk of our forces and head for Grado, Innes, for Jehenna, and Eirika for Rausten." He closed his eyes. "All our hopes rest upon the three of you now."

_And where will **we** end up going, I wonder?_ Franz pondered.

* * *

Amelia managed a tired smile as she stuffed the last of her belongings into her bag. The barracks was cramped, smelly, and filthy, but now… she didn't want to leave. It represented… well, it represented _safety_, something she couldn't help but feel was going to be in short supply once she left for Carcino and Port Kiris.

"Let's go, lass." Another one of the assigned soldiers shrugged. "We've got to be there before the commander does, or there's going to be hell to pay."

Amelia nodded and hefted her lance, heading for the gates of the fortress.

As she emerged into the predawn gloom, she could see a relatively large gathering of soldiers in the vicinity. Experience had taught her that most weren't the least bit interested in making conversation, and she quickly wandered into the crowd, trying not to attract any undue attention.

Soon enough, several of the captains appeared. One of them held up his hand for quiet, and quickly began calling out names. As the soldiers were called, they quickly filed into lines.

"Recruit Amelia!" So she was part of this particular group too… She quickly got into line. It _was_ rather big for a single observation mission, but then again, they'd probably be split up to cover wider ground and all that…

"..lot will be heading for Fort Rigwald in an hour's time…" Amelia briefly tuned in to the captain's speech, already wondering whether Carcino was a nice place for a visit or n - _Fort Rigwald_?

That was at the Frelian border! What could – how… Frantically, she glanced around. None of the other soldiers seemed the least bit surprised at this news. Was there some kind of mistake?

She raised her hand, desperately hoping that she wasn't about to make a fool out of herself in the process. "Um… sir? Commander?"

The captain paused mid-recital to glare at her. "What is it, recruit?" The 'and this had better be worth my time' was left unspoken, but acknowledged.

"Sir, I was told… I was told that I was to be assigned to Port Kiris, not… not Fortress Rigwald. Is there some mistake?"

The captain sighed and turned back to his list. "Are you or are you not Amelia of the Silva region?"

"Yes… yes, I am, but-"

"Then you're assigned to Fortress Rigwald." The captain snapped. "And now, where were we? Ah, yes, we're to…"

Amelia didn't hear him, her sudden shortness of breath and horrible twisting feeling in her stomach having suddenly tripled in intensity within the past two seconds. She was going to Fort Rigwald, the frontlines of the ongoing war with Frelia! And she didn't have the least bit of battle training!

She closed her eyes, feeling cold sweat on her face. What was going to happen to her now?

* * *

She sat on the ground at one corner of the courtyard, eyes closed, feeling hot tears stream down her face.

Simply put, she was afraid. If she went to battle now, she'd be killed. And she didn't want to die. It was that simple.

She didn't want to die.

Resting her chin on her knees, she opened her eyes, rubbing at the tears and staring moodily at the ground. They would be leaving in less than ten minutes.

It just didn't seem fair.

"Recruit."

She glanced up. The red-haired sergeant was standing in front of her.

Hurriedly, she clambered to her feet and saluted. The man returned it.

"Recruit, I heard about your assignment."

"Has there… has there been some mistake, sir?"

The sergeant grimaced. "No. Would that there had been one. Sending you to battle is nothing short of murder."

Amelia felt another pang in her stomach, but nevertheless she tried to keep a steady expression on her face.

"Recruit, for what it's worth, you showed the most promise out of the entire batch I trained."

_That_ caught her attention, and she looked up into his face. Could that really be? She always seemed to be struggling to keep up…

"I see by your face that you're surprised. Well, you shouldn't be." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "You were an exemplary trainee."

"T – thank you, sergeant."

He nodded in acknowledgment, before handing a tiny pouch to her. "This is for you. Consider it… a good luck charm, if you will."

Frowning, she undid the leather binding, and reached into the pouch. From it, she drew out a single feather, gleaming purest white.

Her mouth fell open. "This…" _A speedwing?_

"Said to be imbued with the very magic of Garm itself." The sergeant said softly. "Use it wisely, lass."

She swallowed hard. This was probably the most valuable item she had ever seen – and now she clutched it in her hand.

"Thank – Thank you, sergeant." She managed.

He nodded once more and looked to the gates. "Your squad is assembling. You should be going. "May the protection of Latona and the Everlasting be upon you, Amelia."

Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nodded once before setting out to join the rapidly assembling group of soldiers.

Her path lay before her. Now all that was left to do was for her to take it.

* * *

Franz stood besides General Seth, observing the proceedings, acutely aware of the fact that his future was probably going to be decided in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

Still, most eyes _were_ focused on the debate of the twins in the centre of the room.

"Look, Ephraim," Eirika said hotly. "I don't need a large retinue of fighters with me – the squad of troops that King Hayden has assigned to me will be more than enough-"

"I understand, but we must still be prepared for any eventuality-"

"WHAT eventuality?" Eirika retorted. "A ghost ship that'll pop out of nowhere and ambush me on the high seas? Carcino suddenly deciding after it's staunch anti-war proclamations that, 'hey! we'll side with Grado after all'?"

Ephraim folded his arms. "It's still a possibility we can't ignore." He said stubbornly.

Eirika groaned openly and turned to General Seth. "Seth, please talk some sense into him."

The Silver Knight sighed. "Princess, what Lord Ephraim says is true. There _is_ a possibility, however slight, that the forces assigned to you may prove insufficient-"

"Not you too!"

Seth held up his hand in a calming gesture. "I'm not done yet." He said softly. Clearing his throat once, he continued. "Therefore, I shall be accompanying you on your journey towards Rausten."

Ephraim swiveled on his foot. "Now wait just a minute-"

"However, the bulk of the soldiers should still be sent to assist you in battle against Grado." Seth said, glancing down at a map of the continent unfurled across the table. "Regardless of bravado, it is still the most dangerous of the three missions being carried out."

"Hold it, hold it." The voice came from Joshua, seated at the far end of the room on a couch. "If the Princess is heading towards Rausten, I'm going with her. I've got… well, let's call it unfinished business south of Rausten's border.

_Jehenna, he means?_ Franz wondered. He also noticed the crease of anxiety that crossed Natasha's face, but she remained silent.

"Well…" Lute piped up. "If possible, I would like to travel with Lady Eirika to Rausten. There _are_ several rare tomes located in its royal library I would like to study."

Artur smiled a shy smile. "Then I suppose I shall accompany my friend."

Seth nodded softly. "Four able warriors… A good variety of talents." He turned Ephraim. "My lord? Is this to your satisfaction?"

Ephraim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that."

Franz swallowed. He almost dared not ask, but… "General?" He spoke softly. "What about me?"

Seth turned to him, a warm smile on his face. "Milord Ephraim, if it pleases you, I ask that my protégé, Sir Franz of Renais, be allowed to ride and fight at your side in my stead."

Ephraim look as if he were almost about to grin, but he held himself in check. "It would be an honour." He replied. Franz could see Forde smirking at him out of the corner of his eye.

Ephraim's expression turned serious as he shifted his gaze to regard the rest of the attendees. "And the rest of you – we will be moving to war against the full might of the Grado Empire. Are you resolved to go?"

"I am." Natasha clutched her staff. "I have vowed to see this to end – to see the emperor purged of his madness."

Vanessa bowed slightly. "I, Sir Gilliam and Father Moulder have all been assigned to battle against Grado. We will serve under your command to the end, Lord Ephraim."

Garcia folded his arms. "This old boar's sworn service to the crown of Renais, and he'll fight as well as he's able."

"Me too!" Ross blurted out. "I'm not going to let anyone of you down! I've trained hard for this sort of thing!"

"Colm? Neimi?"

The last two survivors of Lark gazed at each other nervously. Ephraim frowned.

"Truth be told, I don't think it a good idea to send either of you to the battlefield. It is a perilous-"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Colm snapped, leaping to his feet. "Are you saying we can't take care of ourselves?"

"Please…" Neimi said pleadingly. "We have nowhere else to go… let us do this."

Ephraim sighed. "All right, all right. Just… don't do anything rash out on the battlefield, okay?"

"If you see a need to question _us_ of our loyalty to the cause, then something's seriously wrong." Forde chuckled.

"Could you at least _pretend_ that proper decorum is a possibility?" Kyle snapped.

"And Franz?"

Franz saluted respectfully. "For General Seth, my brother, and all of Renais… I'll not let you down, sir."

"Glad to hear that." Ephraim sighed. "Well, we should make preparations for our journey soon. All those under my command, meet me in the courtyard by the passing of the watch, fully prepared for our march. Until then, you're at your leisure. Go."

Franz caught up with the Prince as he was exiting the room. "Milord, if I may?"

Ephraim shot him a glance. "What is it, Franz?"

"Where will we be departing for?"

Ephraim blew out a breath of air. "Fort Rigwald."

* * *

If all went as planned, they would arrive at the Fort tomorrow. Amelia closed her eyes, trying not to think about the inevitable conflict awaiting her in the none-too-distant future.

The company had been hiking for nigh over a week, and most of the men bore signs of their trek. Those that weren't in favour of beards sported scraggly growth along their chins, and all of them were covered in dirt, below the knees, mud as well.

Amelia tried to shift her backpack into a slightly more comfortable position, one that would prevent the straps from digging deep into her shoulders like it had been for the past three hours. She was unsuccessful, mirroring the results of the past half-dozen attempts.

Her armour was a wretched piece of extra and unwanted weight on her back. Of course, it beat actually having to _wear_ the thing for the duration of the march, but frankly, not by a heck of a lot.

The captain raised his hand for a brief break, and Amelia flopped to the ground gratefully, panting with exertion and trying to ignore the pounding on the back of her head.

She had already begun formulating a theory that many of the soldiers who went to war weren't afraid to die simply because they were too tired to care about that any longer. It was certainly working on _her_ to some extent.

She sighed, closed her eyes, and gathered up her tattered resolve for what had to be the tenth time so far today.

"Just one more day of this…" She murmured to herself. "Then I'll have a bed to sleep on, and some real food again, not thia hard tack they keep feeding us. Just one more day."

Raising her head, she saw the commander signaling that the march begin anew, and nodding her compliance, she picked up her pack once more, struggling to get it onto her shoulders.

* * *

Several days of hard riding had allowed them to reach the base camp of the main bulk of the Frelian forces. Ephraim cast a critical eye over the troops, and had been quickly ushered into a war conference by several of the commanding officers.

Franz dismounted Neige, and turned to the rider directly behind him. "Need a hand, Sister Natasha?"

"Thanks." She smiled gratefully as Franz helped steady her own mount enough that she could get off.

"Think nothing of it." Franz shrugged.

"And Franz, please stop calling me 'Sister'. It's…" She flushed slightly. "It's embarrassing."

"Well… It _is_ the proper term of respect for the holy women, is it not?" Franz inquired as he strode alongside her.

"I know, I know, but…" She sighed. "On a battlefield? In a war? It's not… if possible, I'd like to avoid that sort of thing."

"If you wish… Natasha."

"Thank you." She smiled, a faint twinkle in her blue eyes. "And thank you, also, for looking after my safety thus far."

Franz smiled and nodded. He remembered Joshua's parting words to him before the flame-haired mercenary had left for Carcino with Eirika.

"_Hey, Franz." Joshua was leaning by the doorway._

"_Joshua? What is it?"_

_Joshua glanced over to the courtyard, where Natasha was already waiting. "I'll be heading for Rausten with the Princess soon enough, so… I wanted to ask you a favour."_

_Franz shrugged. If it was in his power, more than likely he'd be willing to comply with the request. "Name it." He said._

"_I want you to protect Natasha while I'm gone." The mercenary scratched at the back of his neck. "I knew she'd choose to go to Grado – that's her mission, her battle. But I've got my own, and I won't be able to look after her." He smiled a crooked smile. "Just this once, I don't feel like leaving things up to luck."_

"_Joshua…" Franz smiled slightly, impressed at the mercenary's trust in him. "I'll not let you down."_

"_I know." Joshua grinned roguishly. "I'm betting on it."_

Any further remarks the either might have made was interrupted by Forde yelling to them that Ephraim had outlined his strategy and wanted them to hear it. Exchanging glances, they broke into a run for the command outpost.

* * *

After a brief presenting of themselves to the commander of the Fortress (and he hadn't seemed much interested in the proceedings), Amelia had gratefully retired to her quarters. Along the way, she had procured the information that she had arrived so late it was early – it was already morning, only the sun was still several hours away from peaking over the horizon.

Somehow, that bit of news failed to cheer her up.

Upon arriving at her quarters, it had taken half a minute to figure out that _someone_ had screwed up logistically, and there were no longer any bunks for the taking– the others had taken all available sleeping positions.

She was thus forced to spend the night on the cold floor, and she was convinced that during the night someone had gotten up and scattered pebbles all around her form, so that whenever she rolled over, she was jabbed in about fifteen different places. Not to mention the sheer discomfort of being the only female in a room jam-packed with men was overwhelming.

Still, she had been so exhausted that sleep had claimed her quickly, and now, as the sun shone triumphant in the sky, she stood before the commander of the Fortress, fully dressed in the battle-armour of Grado.

If only it hadn't been so blasted _heavy_, she'd probably feel a whole lot better about this.

Regardless, what conversation she managed to overhear centred around a new commander having arrived at the Frelian camp north of the fort. She steadily tuned it out – the less she thought about upcoming battles, the better, in her eyes, and proceeded to let her mind wander freely. One advantage of being a recruit was that as long as you appeared to be following the latest batch of orders, no one cared what else you were doing.

Abruptly the doors to the command room burst open and a burly soldier strode in, half dragging a struggling form in. Upon closer inspection, Amelia realized it was a girl, maybe two years her elder, bearing a head of navy blue hair.

"Stop it!" The prisoner snapped as she struggled against the vice-like grip the soldier had on her arm. "That hurts!"

"Commander Gheb," the soldier saluted. "We found this Pegasus knight sneaking about the grounds. Her Pegasus has been detained in the stables."

Gheb stood from his position on the throne. Amelia couldn't help but feel repulsed by his physical appearance – beady, toadlike eyes stared out from above puffed-out cheeks and thick, rubbery lips. Swallowing, she turned instead to regard the prisoner.

Even from her vantage point, she could see several bruises on her face and arms – all of them fresh. She felt her chest tighten as she realized that the soldier currently grasping the prisoner's arm had been the own responsible for this.

In a swift motion, the soldier swung his arms forward, sending the prisoner sprawling onto the floor of the throne room. Gheb chuckled darkly.

"You didn't tell me she was such a treat for the eyes." His eyes flitted back and form across her slender frame, and Amelia shuddered inwardly.

Silently, the prisoner pulled herself into a half-crouch. "I came for Ephraim." She spoke clearly, but even Amelia could detect the faint tremor in her voice. "If you harm me, he will not be merciful."

The soldier who'd captured her lashed out with his foot, catching her in the midsection. She crumpled to the floor once more, whimpering slightly, clutching her wounded stomach. Amelia grit her teeth. She wanted to help the poor girl, but… but she was a prisoner! A Frelian! Her captain her told her enough about them – they were almost as cruel as the soldiers of Renais, and when they had prisoners, they would torture them mercilessly. Surely this was only payback…

But as she gazed at the pain-filled eyes of the prisoner, she still knew that this was just _wrong_. She swallowed. Should she speak up? Rush to the prisoner's aid? What?

"Hey, stop." Gheb snapped. Amelia glanced up in relief. _He_ had to detest this abuse as much as her. After, he wasn't commander for no reason-

"No reason to spoil her pretty skin." The corpulent man smirked. "Throw her in the back cells. I'm going to spend the evening giving her a thorough… interrogation." He chuckled again.

Amelia wasn't exactly sure what he had implied with such a speech, but she was certain it could be nothing good. She felt her heart sink as she watched the prisoner hauled roughly to her feet before being dragged away.

* * *

"Fort Rigwald."

Franz could hear the implied meaning deep in Forde's voice as the two of them stood, seeing the hazy outline of the fortress wall in the distance.

"Hasn't been conquered in many lifetimes." Forde sighed. "It's said to be the jewel of all of Grado's fortifications. In fact, they say that none have ever breached the walls. The one time they succeeded in storming this place was when someone from within turned traitor and opened the gates to the invaders."

"And yet here we are, prepared to charge perhaps the most impregnable fortress in the realm." Franz sighed. "What do you think, brother? Can we do it?"

Forde frowned, tapping one finger against his chin. "Difficult…" He mused. "But possible, depending."

"Depending?"

"A fortress is only as strong as the people defending the walls, or so that's conventional wisdom. Many of the Grado soldiers that I've fought against… well, let's say a fair number of them aren't any happier than we are about this whole mess. For a long time, Grado and Renais were close allies, and more than that."

"So… you're saying…"

"If we can win quickly," Forde frowned. "Say, charge the throne room or something… we might convince the majority of the defenders to lower their weapons."

Franz barked out a short laugh. "The problem there, brother, is that charging the throne room would involve going through the majority of the defenders _first_."

"True enough." Forde chuckled. "Guess it's going to come down to old-fashioned swordplay, after all." He shot a look at his younger brother. "I'll try to use non-lethal strikes, though."

Franz shut his eyes and sighed. "I don't like killing any more than you do, brother. Probably even less, come to think of it." The grip on his reins tightened. "But if push comes to shove, then, well… I'll do what must be done."

"Glad to hear it." Forde urged his horse into a slow trot, heading for where the Prince was waiting. "I'll watch your back if you watch mine."

"Deal." Franz grinned.

* * *

"The enemy is moving!" Amelia heard the call long before the messenger burst into the throne room. "The Frelian army is on the move! Prince Ephraim of Renais is leading them!"

"Renais?" Before Amelia could respond, the soldier standing next to her snorted in contempt. "Of course he would want a piece of us. We invaded his country without rhyme or reason." He muttered. "My sister and her husband were living in Renais until this stinking mess-"

"Hey."

Amelia turned, along with the soldier, as Gheb turned his gaze upon him. "Trying to discourage the men, eh? The punishment for treason ain't kid's stuff, you know. You get burned alive." Amelia thought she saw an unpleasant gleam in Gheb's eye. She shuddered inwardly. This commander wasn't what she had expected out of one at all.

The soldier, however, apparently had had enough of staying silent. "It's not just me, sir." He replied harshly. "Even General Duessel has stated time and time again that he's opposed to this war! And-"

Amelia had already tuned the rest of his rant out, her shock at this latest revelation enough to overwhelm her, however briefly.

General Duessel… opposed to this war? He didn't want this conflict? But – but he was the Obsidian! The greatest of all of Grado's generals! If even _he_ had no desire to prolong this war, then what-

"Duessel?" Gheb snort of derision broke her reverie. "You'd side with that washed up old coward? Don't forget, maggot, _I'm_ your commanding officer here, and I say you fight, kill, and _die_ in my service!"

Amelia winced at the harshness of the words, but she could scarce believe the next statement to come from her commander's lips. "No one cares if slugs like you live or die anyway!"

"Wait a minute!" She burst out. Gheb's dark gaze fell on her, and she could feel her courage drying up like a puddle on the height of a summer's day. Nevertheless, she pushed on. "How – how can you say something like that? We – we're _people_! We have our own dreams and families-"

"Who are you?" Gheb snapped. "Your name! Out with it!"

She took a half-step back instinctively. "I'm – I'm Amelia. I was assigned to this fortress today." Today being correct in the most technical sense of the term, she supposed. She shook her head. "I am a soldier of Grado, not some slave or dog you can treat as-"

The back of his hand slammed into her face so hard that she was knocked to the floor. As she lay there gasping, feeling her cheek burn, she heard Gheb's voice, cold and imperious.

"You've got some nerve to talk to your commander like that, girl. I don't know why you're even in the army, but it's time you learned about chain of command. First lesson, you do _exactly as I say_, got that?"

Before she could bite out a response, another messenger hurriedly entered the throne room. "Commander Gheb! They're within arrow distance of the walls!"

"Grah! Stupid interruptions." Gheb tapped her shoulder with his foot. "Get up, stupid girl. Form up with the others and don't let them near the throne. Grado can ill afford to lose one of my stature and genius. Your lives are as nothing compared to mine, and that's the truth. So go! Fight and kill in my name!"

Not daring to look back, Amelia picked up her lance from where it lay on the floor and hurried out of the room, hardly registering the sympathetic looks she received from several of the soldiers in the room.

* * *

"They haven't started firing yet." Franz mumbled as he gazed at the archers arrayed on the top of the fortress walls. The entire company had halted on the fringes of what would be adequate firing distance of the arrows, and both sides were staring each other down.

"Calm before the storm, lad." Garcia said from his position beside him. "It's always that way. No one wants to be the one responsible for starting the bloodbath. That's why it usually falls to the commander of the army to open the festivities."

"Yet Prince Ephraim isn't doing anything." Franz glanced over to where the Prince was glaring defiantly at the archers atop the walls.

"He'll do so soon enough. No worries." Garcia's gaze had already returned to scanning the walls, looking for any possible weaknesses.

"Butterflies in my stomach…" Franz groaned. And it was true. Somehow he felt as if the actual fighting couldn't be any more nerve wracking than simply waiting for it. Fort Rigwald was going to be the biggest challenge they had ever faced. Even assaulting Renvall with a tiny force of soldiers hadn't seemed as daunting a task.

"Once the fighting starts, you'll be too focused to be nervous." Garcia replied distractedly. "Just hold steady, lad. You'll do fine."

Franz nodded, grateful for the comfort and guidance. "Thank you, sir Garcia."

He closed his eyes, trying to find some inner core of peace – and waited for the pain and the screaming and the dying to begin.

* * *

"The lot of a soldier. We fight as ordered, and we die as ordered." Her fellow recruit was grousing about the commander's behaviour, but Amelia barely noticed. From her position atop the battlements, she could see the entire enemy army spread out before her.

"There's… so many of them." She whispered softly, almost to herself.

Her fellow recruit looked down as well. "It's not the numbers I'm worried about." He shrugged. "In terms of manpower and terrain, we have the advantage." He breathed out a sigh. "In terms of skill, though… Prince Ephraim leads those troops. He's said to be a demon on the battlefield. There're rumours that he managed to storm Renvall with only three soldiers under his command."

"What?" Amelia's mouth hung open. Renvall? The water fortress? "How in the world could he-"

"Apparently he's just that good." The soldier gave a frustrated sigh.

"Then… then what can we do?" Reflexively, she clutched her lance to herself. If such powerful foes were arrayed against them…

"Trust in the fortress, and our own strength, I suppose." The soldier folded his arms. "The walls of Fort Rigwald have never been breached, and we'll fight to the last." He turned away, heading for his assigned post.

Amelia swallowed. "And… and if that doesn't prove enough?" She asked.

The soldier halted, looked back to face her. "Then you'd best pray that they know the meaning of mercy." And then he was gone.

Amelia drew in another deep breath, willing herself not to cry.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	14. Trust

No Longer Alone

* * *

Heh. I know quite a few people have been waiting for the 'meeting-up' scene. Well, it's here. Hope it's to your liking.

Without further ado, let us begin.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The battle began with explosive force – so sudden that Franz had almost been caught unawares. But he had caught the downward slashing motion Ephraim had made with his hand an instant before the storm of projectiles – arrows, ballista bolts, magic spells erupted from the ground and the castle battlements.

Kicking Neige into a gallop, Franz swept his blade out. The group of crimson-armoured knights guarding the outer gates had raised their lances in answer to the cavalry charge.

From somewhere beside him, a hand-axe sliced through the air, cutting deep into the helmet of one of the forefront knights. The soldier collapsed, creating a gap, however small, in the ranks of the knights.

Forde swept past him, flinging a Javelin with deadly force at another mounted soldier. He fell, but one of his comrades quickly retaliated in kind, forcing Forde to veer off mid charge.

The closer he got to the shadow of the castle, the safer he would be from the enemy arrows – of course that meant he would be in fighting range of the mounted knights. The grip on his sword tightened. He wasn't going to let his brother and Prince Ephraim down.

The first of the knights thrust at him with his spear. Judging the strike expertly, he leaned enough to the side to let it pass him harmlessly by. Then Franz swung his sword upward, catching the chin off the knight with the hilt of his sword. The soldier was down for the count.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Ross fending off two foot-bound soldiers on his own. Before he could rush to the young axefighter's aid, however, Gilliam had charged the two, body-checking the first one while Ross made ample use of the latter soldier's distraction to remove the soldier's leg.

"The gates! Strike the gates!"

_How?_ Franz through as he blocked a sword blow from an enemy cavalier. _There's still so many of them at the gates!_ Forcing the blade back, Franz slammed his gauntleted fist into the enemy's helmet, creating a sizable dent in the visor which served as a handy impediment to vision. While the stunned soldier dropped his sword in a desperate attempt to get the helmet off, Franz slashed the reins off the knight's horse and unseated the soldier by way of a well-aimed kick.

A battering ram had been prepared for the purpose of this siege, along with several ladders. Of course, ladders weren't much of an option for one who did most of his fighting on horseback, but it would greatly aid the footsoldiers.

Still, though, the soldiers around the battering ram would be the primary focus for archers, not to mention the mass of enemy knights still milling around near the front were going to be doing their level best to impede the efforts of said battering ram.

Franz let out a growl of frustration as he swung his blade in a wide arc, forcing the three soldiers attempting he was facing to back off slightly. They needed to find some way inside the courtyard to disable the archers and mages and what-have-you, and to do that they needed to start taking out the knights guarding the gate faster.

Tugging on the reins as Neiege reared back, he brought his sword down with deadly force upon a lancefighter caught unawares. Crimson blood coated the blade, some of it splashing across Franz's armour and breeches.

_First kill of the day._ Franz thought wearily. And it was unlikely to be his last. Sighing, he guided Neige to the right, where he could see Sir Garcia and two Frelian soldiers attempting to hold their own against four knights on horseback.

* * *

Amelia winced every time the dull roar of battle beyond the front gates crested and increased in intensity, which seemed to be every few seconds.

"Are you alright?" The soldier next to her asked gruffly.

"Ah!" She swallowed hard, grasping her lance as tightly as she could. "I – I'm fine. You don't – you need to worry about me."

The soldier shrugged and returned to standing at attention. Amelia glanced around the corridor, marveling at how all the soldiers managed to appear so calm. So… controlled.

There was a sudden crash, and Amelia jumped. "Wha – what was that?"

"…" The soldier by her side shifted his lance slightly. "Sounds like the front gate… it's been breached."

"Breached?" Amelia gasped. "So… so soon? But how-"

"You talk too much, lass." The soldier replied, effectively shutting her up. He shifted the grip on his weapon slightly, turning to face the door.

_Keep it together, Amelia. This is your first fight. I can't afford to mess this up. I have to do my best. I… I…_ She closed her eyes, fighting to keep back tears. _I… I want to go home._

* * *

Contrary to belief, the front gate had _not_ been breached. Not yet, anyway. What _had_ occurred, however, was the battering ram meeting the reinforced gate head-on, creating a loud crashing noise that radiated out from the point of impact. Franz winced at the harshness of the sound, guiding his horse closer to protect the defenseless soldiers manning the ram.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Forde and Kyle, sword and lance slick with fresh blood. He managed to catch their eye, and motioned for them to go to the aid of the soldier at the ram. Forde nodded and urge his steed to fall in with Neige. Kyle did likewise after slight hesitation.

And apparently not a moment too soon, for a phalanx of knights had already charged to slay those manning the battering ram. Forde, slightly faster than Franz, managed to intercept them first, while Franz and Kyle charged the back of those knights, essentially trapping them in between the three cavaliers of Renais.

Bringing his sword up in an underhand slash, he cut through the gauntleted hand of a soldier, slashing away a couple of fingers and causing him to drop his sword in the process. As the knight cried out in pain, Franz brought his blade up towards the neck.

At the absolute last second, Franz pulled back, letting the silver edge of his sword rest on the neck of the trembling man.

"Yi – yield." The soldier croaked weakly, raising his unmangled hand.

Franz nodded once and rammed his fist into the soldier's forehead. The man's eyes rolled back and he tumbled off his horse. He'd be safe – the battle had already progressed further on.

The battering ram smashed into the main gate a second time, sending another resounding _BOOM_ through the crowd engaged in bloody battle around it. Franz spared a glance to his surroundings, spotted a lance being thrust at him, and instinctively brought his blade up to knock it away.

With a screech of tortured metal, his sword was knocked out of his grasp. Well, at least he had parried the lance-strike. The soldier wielding it grinned. "Tough luck, boy." He sneered, and stabbed forward again.

Leaning forward as far as he could, Franz felt the jagged spearhead tear against the smooth plating of his armour. Urging Neige forward before whirling around, he beheld the same soldier charging him again.

This time, Franz was ready. At the soldier stabbed forward, Franz dodged to the side. Before the soldier could make any move to draw his lance back, Franz had jabbed his elbow into the knight's plate-mailed midsection. A _whuf!_ of air was blown out, and the man slumped in his saddle. As the spear tumbled from his limp grasp, Franz managed to seize it with his right hand, bringing it up to bear against two more footsoldiers who appeared to be rushing him.

Just then, a third crash rocked the area, and all eyes turned to watch as the gates collapsed – the gates of one of the most powerfully built fortress in the land.

* * *

The soldier stumbled through the front doors. "They've breached the gates!" He sputtered hoarsely. "They're pouring into the courtyard!"

There was a rise in the amount of murmuring, and Amelia could swear that several of the soldiers around her had turned slightly paler.

"Commander Gheb will need to know of this." One soldier declared.

The messenger paled. Obviously, Commander Gheb was not a man one would want to deliver bad news to, Amelia noted. Then again, after her last encounter with him, she decided that Commander Gheb was not a man one would want to interact with, period.

"What should we do?" Came the question from another soldier, this one a mage. "Do we head out to assist?"

"We were ordered to stay here." The soldier beside Amelia snapped with authority. "We within the fortress comprise the last line of defense for the throne – we cannot afford to move."

Closing her eyes, Amelia prayed fervently that somehow, everything would turn out okay.

* * *

As Franz rode into the courtyard, newly acquired spear in hand, he wasted no time he charging up the ramparts, weapon at the ready to bring down the archers that had already brought death to so many of the Frelian troops. Other soldiers apparently had the same idea, and now the outer walls of the fortress was swarming with battle.

Archers had a reputation for being notoriously weak in melee combat, and thus it was left to mages on the walls to pick up the slack. However, the fact that they had to look out for their vulnerable archer allies distracted them, making them relatively easier targets to pick off. In seconds, the line of archers had been decimated, and the survivors were fleeing back into the relative safety of the inner fortress.

Riding down into the courtyard, he noted that what enemy soldiers remained were likewise retreating into the fort itself. The Frelian army had successfully secured the courtyard, then.

"Well, we're halfway there." He noted to his brother, who was busy engaged in the act of wiping off his bloody blade.

"Not quite." Prince Ephraim said as he strode up behind the both of them. He was covered in blood, but from Franz could discern, none of it was his own. He shook his head – just how much had Ephraim practiced to achieve the fighting ability he possessed now?

"If the soldiers know anything at all about strategy, they'll all congregate at a single chokepoint – that way they can hold us back with maximum efficiency – soft of like what you people were doing at Fortress Renvall.

Franz nodded. "So you're saying the toughest part is yet to come."

Ephraim sighed. "Basically. Of course, there's always a chance the enemy commander is too much of an idiot to see the merits of such a battle tactic – but wishful thinking has a way of getting you killed on the battlefield." He gestured for the three cavaliers to fall in behind him. "Come on, let's go. We've got a lot of work to do."

"And by the way, I thought you might want this back." Forde chuckled lightly as he handed Franz back the blade he had dropped earlier. Franz turned a slight shade of pink before mumbling a hasty 'thanks'.

His older brother grinned and turned to spur his horse onwards. After a second's hesitation, Franz did likewise.

* * *

The main doors of the fortress were of a sturdy design, but nothing in comparison to the main gates they had just breached. Whoever had constructed Fort Rigwald had gotten the basics of fortress design down pretty well – slits in the front wall made it easy for archers to aim out at the mass of people below, while only the best of archers could hope to hit anything inside. So far, Neimi had been trying her best, but Franz could see the increasing frustration (and exhaustion) on her face. Colm was standing close by, propping up Ross who had a nasty wound in his leg. Father Moulder was already hurrying towards them.

The doors looked to be in bad shape – it was unlikely they'd hold out for much longer. Silently, Franz dismounted Neige. The corridors would likely be narrow – it wouldn't make much sense for a warrior to be riding a horse indoors.

"Stay safe, girl." He whispered as he ran his hand along the soft fur of Neige's neck. The horse whinnied slightly and trotted off.

Turning back to the battle – the doors were already splintering – Franz gripped the hilt of his sword tighter.

And charged.

Arrows whined and zipped about him, the relatively fewer mages preparing and flinging magic spells at their targets. Just as he reached the door, an arrow whistled by his cheek, drawing a thin red line across it.

Wincing at the close call, Franz doubled his pace just as the doors finally gave way.

And then battle was joined.

* * *

Amelia winced as she heard the shouts and screams grow ever louder. Swallowing hard, she took a couple of steps backwards. _I… I can't do this. I can't._

The other soldiers had quickly begun to assemble themselves, forming a defensive barrier across the narrow corridor. Meanwhile, breathing hard, the young recruit reflexively relaxed and tightened her grip on her lance.

She didn't know what to do! She didn't know anything about fighting, beyond the idea that sticking the sharp and pointy end of her weapon into the enemy's soft and fleshy bits was probably a good one.

What had they told her about the Frelian soldiers, again? _Horrid, cruel, beasts… They'll butcher anyone in their path mercilessly… if they actually do take anyone prisoner, they'll burn that person alive…_ Trembling violently, Amelia shook her head, trying to clear away the mental images that swarmed within.

It didn't do much good, and ahead of her was a far more dreadful sight – the Frelian army battering down the doors, and the soldiers of Frelia pouring into the fort, engaging the Grado defenders in battle.

Paralysis seemingly gripped her again – there was no way, absolutely no way, she could do anything against-

Her eyes caught one of the Frelian knights – encased in armour the colour of verdant spring – had swiveled around, and was now facing off against a trio of swordfighters, his back to Amelia.

Could this be? Such an obvious chance presented to her almost seemed too good to be true, but Amelia wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Shifting her lance into a battle-ready position (at least, she _hoped_ it was a battle-ready position), she started for the knight, trying her best not to get noticed.

* * *

Franz's eyes narrowed in concentration, his sword little more than shining blur as he attempted to find an opening in the swordplay of the two soldiers he was facing. Originally three had chosen to gang up on him, and Franz hadn't had a good premonition about how _that_ battle was likely to turn out, but Forde had managed to waylay one and had probably dealt with the unlucky swordfighter already.

As for his _current_ foes, well…

Parrying a vertical blow, Franz lashed out with his foot, catching one soldier in the midsection. As he stumbled, Franz whirled, slapping the other soldier with the flat of his blade and sending him sprawling. First one down…

As the soldier who had just been kicked struggled to get to his feet, Franz chopped the back of his neck with an outstretched palm. Second one down.

Another small victory in a seemingly endless series of fights. Franz sighed, taking a half-step back. Then his eyes narrowed.

Someone was attempting to sneak up behind him (and doing a pretty poor job of it, too). Flipping his blade into a ready position, he whirled, bringing his sword up to block whatever his enemy would attempt to attack him with.

A silver lance that had been aimed at his chest was deflected, almost knocked out of his opponent's hands. And for that opponent apparently hadn't centered himself well –the force of the impact caused him to stumble backwards, almost falling –

But something seemed strange…

As his opponent grimaced, Franz frowned.

* * *

Okay, the first attack hadn't gone so well… Amelia winced. But she could do it! She had to!

Bringing her lance up again, she started to advance when she noticed her foe had lowered his weapon and was staring at her with a mixture of shock and incredulity.

"You…" He started. "But… you're … you're a girl…" He finished lamely.

Amelia could feel her cheeks burning red. She had _had_ it with people looking down on her! "Don't mock me!" She snapped. "I'm a soldier of Grado. Take this-" She paused, unhappily aware that doing so made her look ridiculous, but she was running a rather large blank on nasty slurs with which to call him. Finally settling on the first one that came up, she continued, "Frelian dog!" And lunged.

He brought his sword up, but instead of clashing with her, he used it to intercept her lance, and with a hooking motion sent it flying out of her hands. Amelia barely had time to register this before she found herself impacting the ground rather hard, rolling slightly as she did so.

"Ah! Ow…" She mumbled. Suddenly, she became aware of her opponent coming up beside her. A wave of panic washed over Amelia, and hurriedly she tried to get to her feet-

"**OW**!" She howled in pain as she tried to use her hands to boost herself. A fiery pain seared its way into her hand, and she jerked it away from the floor instinctively, blinking back tears. The angle of her fall… had she sprained something?

Ah! He was already directly beside her! She had to do _something_, and fast, before he… before he… began to… tend to her wound?

Amelia blinked with confused fright as he cradled her injured arm far more gently than she would have believed possible. Reaching into the satchel that hung by his side, he quickly drew out a swathe of bandages.

"This may hurt a bit." He said in a low voice, and, right there, a vicious battle raging around them, he proceeded to bind her wrist tightly. Amelia hissed with pain as he tugged on the cloth, but was otherwise silent.

"I think you pulled something." He said as he gently helped her to her feet. "If you hold your lance like that, you're going to fall over a whole lot." He smiled sheepishly. "I did that _way_ too much in training. And, well, I think I still do that more often than should."

"Um…" Amelia was tongue-tied. What was going on? This was one of the Frelian soldiers! She'd heard countless tales of their savagery and brutality in battle, and they _never_ showed kindness. Certainly they didn't go out of their way to treat their enemy's injuries! And yet… and yet, this enemy… this soldier had done just that.

"Y- you…" She stammered, trying to make sense of it all.

Apparently, he misunderstood the intent of her remark, for his smile became more inviting. "I'm, uh, my name's Franz. I'm a knight of Renais. What's yours?"

She glanced away instinctively, feeling her cheeks heat up. This wasn't… what was going on?

"Franz!" A knight dressed in crimson armour jogged up to the both of them. "The corridor's secure – most of the enemy are retreating to the inner sanctum. Are you coming or…" He trailed off as he caught sight of Amelia. "And who's this?" He inquired. She cringed, backing away. 'Franz' may have treated her kindly in the short time he'd known her, but she had no way to tell if any of the other enemy soldiers would see fit to do the same.

"She's… uh, she's from Grado, apparently…" He turned to her, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm, uh… I'm not really sure about anything else…"

The knight in crimson armour turned to face her with a skeptical look on his face. She swallowed hard and tried to stand her ground. After a moment or so, he turned away with a shrug.

"Don't ask, don't tell. I'll be ahead with the others, alright?" In seconds, he was gone.

Only then did Amelia look around and realize that the battle had moved on from the entrance. Any Grado soldiers that weren't dead were busy being tended to by several healer-types. Amelia shook her head. This was nothing like what she had expected. "I, uh…" She mumbled.

"So… what's your name?"

"I'm… I'm Amelia. I'm a soldier of Grado." She glanced around, looking at the quiet that had settled so quickly after the chaos. "And…" She gave a tiny shrug of resignation. "I guess I'm your prisoner, huh?"

"Wha-? No! I mean…" He coughed. "I mean, well, _yes_, you're a prisoner on a technicality, but… it's not like that…"

"No, it's alright…" She glanced down to the ground where her weapon lay unattended. "I'm…" She sighed. "I'm actually kinda relieved."

"What? Did they force you into service or something?"

"N- no. Nothing like that. It's only…" She gave a sad chuckle. "You saw how I fought. If you hadn't… um… if you hadn't helped me… I'd be...

She lapsed into silence.

* * *

Franz nodded. "I understand. Well, don't worry too much. We won't treat you badly."

She nodded, albeit hesitantly. Satisfied, Franz turned, reaching for the lance on the ground.

"Uh…" Her soft voice floated up. He turned back, catching Amelia in the process of looking terribly embarassed, hesitant, fearful, yet determined at the same time. "I mean…" She began softly. "That… my lance…"

He gazed down at the weapon. It was built delicately, but it was obvious from the make and craft that it was indeed a masterfully crafted weapon. No way this weapon had come from some general armoury.

"It's precious to you, isn't it?" He asked, and was replied to with a soft nod. He got the impression that there was more – a whole lot more, in fact – that she wished to say, only she wasn't too sure about pushing it.

"I'll take good care of it. I promise." He told her, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He paused. Somehow, he felt as if something more needed to be said…

"Trust me." The words came out of his mouth so easily that he scarce registered actually saying them. Amelia's eyes widened at this, and then became hooded, her gaze flitting from side to side as she waged an internal war with herself.

Finally, she nodded, and a hint of a smile appeared on her face. "Alright. I'll trust you… Franz."

For some reason he wasn't certain about, he found himself smiling back.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	15. Communion

No Longer Alone

* * *

Hum… I've been under increasing amounts of stress from schoolwork lately… Add that to four ongoing multichapter stories (and whatever oneshots my mind churns out during that time) on this site alone, and man, my update times are going to go to pot.

Oh well. Next chapter's up. Enjoy, I hope.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Hey." Franz heard his brother's call and nodded in acknowledgment. With a sigh, he let the satchel he had strapped to his side fall to the dirt ground and joined his brother by the campfire.

"We've got all of Fort Rigwald, and Ephraim leaves it to the Grado soldiers." Forde snorted in a mixture of amusement and incredulity. "And we, the brave soldiers of Frelia and Renais, will spend the night in tents and sleeping bags."

"Can't be helped." Franz chuckled. "We're not here to win only on the battlefield – we've got to convince Grado that we're not after them – we just want Emperor Vigarde to surrender, end the war, and help us with the restoration."

"Hm. Can't say there hasn't been grumbling about it, though."

Franz shook his head. "Of all the people here, us Renaitians are the ones who should feel the most bitter against Grado – Prince Ephraim included. If we can do it without complaint… well, so should they."

"Perhaps." Franz noticed that Forde was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "And just why do **you** feel so altruistic towards Grado all of a sudden?" Forde's eyes twinkled. "Might it have something to do with that young girl you saved from the bloodshed?"

"Come off it." Franz said shortly. Forde caught the tone in Franz's voice and wisely decided to back down for now.

A long moment of silence passed in between the both of them, where they merely sat staring at the fire. Finally, Franz sighed, cleared his throat, and spoke up again.

"But, you know… I just… Back there, it…" He grimaced, unable to properly articulate what he was feeling. Forde raised and eyebrow.

"Is it about that girl?"

"Her name's Amelia," Franz sighed and shook his head. "And yes, it is. Kind of."

"Kind of." Forde bit into the strip of meat he had been holding into his hand. "Always the best way to start off when asking for advice."

"You know… earlier today, when I… well, 'fought' isn't exactly the correct word, but when I faced her… and I spared her… I, well, I found something odd within myself." Then Franz's eyes narrowed. "And if you make allusions to anything involving 'love', 'crushes', or 'romance', I reserve the right to punch you in the face without fear of retaliation."

"Duly noted." Forde said dryly. "And what's so strange? You have a tendency for sparing any of you enemy's lives if you can help it."

"Well, yes, but… I always incapacitate them to ensure that they won't cause trouble for me later. With Amelia, it was… different. I didn't think at all of hurting her. It was more like… I don't know… like I wanted to protect her. To get her away from all this messy fighting."

"…" Forde was silent for several seconds. "Are you sure you don't want me to draw any parallels to the romantic side of things?"

"Quite." Franz snapped in an annoyed tone. "There was just something… different about her. Different from the other soldiers."

"Huh. Well, I wasn't privy to much of whatever it was she did, so unless you can articulate things better I'm not going to be able to help you out on this."

"I know. It's just…" Frustrated, the young knight ran a hand through his hair as he pondered the issue.

The two brothers sat together for several minutes, one chewing away hungrily at his snack, the other with eyes half closed as he turned his dilemma over in his mind.

"Resolve." He finally spoke up. "It was resolve. The other soldiers we fought… they were resigned to their duty – they may not have liked it, but they were committed to accomplishing it. Amelia… she was terrified. I just… I don't think I could have done anything to her without hating myself next morning. I mean, I actually helped her with an injured arm!"

Forde chuckled lightly. "All's well that ends well, brother. I don't think I'd have had the heart to strike someone like her down either."

* * *

_Franz turned away temporarily from Amelia. There was still plenty of fighting to be done, and she should be safe with the rest of the group._

"_Stay here, okay?" He asked, aware how foolish it was to be saying something like this to an enemy prisoner, but still, he just got the feeling she wasn't going to try anything rash. "I can't guarantee your safety if you wander off somewhere."_

_He got two steps before she called back to him. "Wait!"_

_Pausing, he turned back to face her. "Yes?"_

_She swallowed hard, glancing uncertainly from side to side. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she was equally hesitant about everything in her life. Then he dismissed that thought. Being taken a prisoner, and especially in the manner she had just been through, would probably be a confusing and disorienting experience for anyone. "Yes?" He repeated, trying to make it sound gentler._

_Finally, she looked up into his eyes, and for the first time he saw a hint of resolve in her eyes – something she believed was right and worth doing; something she was committed to._

"_There's – there's a prisoner here. A Pegasus knight. If you want, I could… I can lead you to her."_

_His brow furrowed, Franz pondered mentally. A Pegasus knight taken prisoner? Surely word should have spread through the camp by now if one had been taken… And of course, once the fighting started, a single warrior being captured and taken wouldn't be of much significance._

_She wasn't about to lead him into a trap, was he?_

_He gazed at her uncertainly. After a moment, she broke his gaze and looked down to the floor. He could see the beginning of a blush spreading across her cheeks._

_Hoping that he wasn't about to say something he was going to regret later, he opened his mouth. "Alright, then. Lead the way."_

_

* * *

_

_Amelia ran her tongue over dry lips as she hurried through the corridors of the fortress. Behind her, the Renais knight – Franz – kept a steady pace behind her._

_Once in a while they ran into fighting between the invaders and the defenders, and after ensuring that she wasn't going to be entangled in the fighting, Franz would draw his sword and enter the melee as well._

_She would huddle by the sidelines, unhappily aware of the fact that she had no weapon, and moreso, that having one wouldn't have made much difference. So all she could do was watch him._

_After a while, she began to notice that he almost never killed an opponent if it was feasible for him to do so. Of course, there were several times where there had been no other choice, and blood coated his sword once again (and she winced whenever that happened), but she could tell he found no delight in doing so._

_Finally, she led him to the gates of the prison holding area – only to find three Frelian soldiers fending off twice as many Grado knights._

_Franz merely paused to give her a look – obeying silently, she took a step backwards – before he ran forward to throw himself into the combat._

_One unprepared knight fell, suffering a wound to his thigh. As he clutched at it, screaming in pain, Fran shifted his attention to two more that were giving a lance-wielding Frelian trouble. Quickly, he diverted the attention of one of them, but even as he did so, the remaining Grado knight knocked aside the Frelian's spear, thrusting his own weapon into the Frelian's midsection._

_She saw Franz utter a silent curse, shifting tactics to deal with the second foe as both concentrated their attacks on him._

_Blades and spears rose and fell in a deadly dance._

_

* * *

_

_  
Finally, the skirmish ended, and aside from a tiny wound to his hip (one quickly amended by a vulnerary), Franz was untouched, along with the two remaining Frelian knights._

"_Franz?" He heard Amelia's voice. "This is the place."_

"_Right, thanks." He nodded in gratitude and stepped forward to nudge open the door._

_One swordswielder, leaning against the wall and looking rather bored. He obviously hadn't heard the sounds of battle from outside – either that or he was simply hoping to wait out the battle until he ended._

"_Okay, I guess I'll head in. Can you two help me stand guard?" The taller of the two soldiers nodded._

"_Good. Amelia, you stay here with them, okay? I'll come back after-"_

"_Huh? But…" She interrupted, a troubled expression on her face. "But I thought…"_

"_Is there something wrong?"_

_

* * *

_

_She nodded, miserable, not trusting herself to speak._

_How could she explain that of all the soldiers here, she felt safe with him – and only him?_

_The officers in Grado had told her about the cruelty and brutality of both Renais and Frelia. Franz obviously was nothing like that, but… but she couldn't be sure about the others. And what about their leader… that Prince Ephraim? She shook her head._

"_Let me…" She said softly, almost in a pleading tone. "Let me go in with you. I can help… I could keep him off guard…"_

_Even as she spoke she could see the incredulity on the faces of the Frelian soldiers. But Franz merely nodded, his expression strangely blank._

"_If you say so."_

_

* * *

_

_Franz let Amelia step ahead of her, trying her best to act as if she had just managed to take a prisoner. Meanwhile, Franz kept his head low, trying to look defeated, his hands clasped at the small of his back. Of course they weren't bound, but provided he didn't mess this up, the guard would have no way of telling so until it was too late._

_The swordsman glanced up from his post, his hand shifting to his sword as the two entered. Once he saw the emblem of Grado on Amelia's scarlet armour, he let it fall to his side again._

"_What's it now?" He mumbled._

"_Uh… I, uh, got a prisoner!"_

_The swordsman snorted. "Shoulda just killed him and saved me the trouble." Pulling himself into a more upright position, he snagged the keyring hanging around his belt and pulled open the door to an empty cell. "Over here." He yawned._

_Franz walked forward, with Amelia following suit, as the young cavalier resisted the urge to roll his eyes. To any observant individual, the two of them had raised at least three glaring red flags that signified something was clearly odd about the 'prisoner' and his 'captor'._

"_Hurry up, I haven't got all day-"_

_Franz swung his arm up and about, slamming a fist into the back of the swordsman's head. The man's eyes rolled upwards and he collapsed heavily on the dirt floor._

_Franz stooped to retrieve the keys. "Alright, so which cell was it?"_

"_I – I'm not sure. I only know she was taken here…" Amelia glanced hesitantly around._

"_Alright…" Franz sighed as he wandered around, checking the rows of cells. He noted some discarded boxes with a fair amount of stuff in several of them – Colm would likely have a field day here later. "Maybe you could describe the prisoner to me?"_

_  
"Well, she was a she… she had dark blue eyes, and this really long, thick cascade of luxurious dark blue hair…"_

_Franz halted in midstep. That had almost sounded like… "Princess Tana?" He blurted out. What was she-_

"_Ah!" The shout came from further in. "Here! I'm over here!"_

_

* * *

_

_Amelia still found it slightly difficult to believe a princess would have run off and got herself captured like that (she'd always had that mental image of them being rather… well, proper), but Franz seemed entirely satisfied with her claim that she was indeed royalty. Further, she'd vaguely recognized him as 'one of Eirika's knights', and that had been the end of that._

_By the time they re-emerged from the prisons, the battle was all but over, and the majority of the soldiers congregated in the throne room._

_Amelia had felt her stomach churn slightly as she saw the bloodstained throne that Gheb had occupied earlier on. Upon catching sight of the prince of Renais, Amelia's heart suddenly sped up, and she found herself edging back behind Franz. The knight stepped forward, the Frelian princess at his side, and after a few words between the Renaitian Prince and the Frelian Princess, the princess went to stand further away._

_The prince began a speech about how this battle had been a difficult one, and how many of their comrades now lay dead. Amelia hadn't really been listening, until she picked up him saying something about how if any reports reached him about the Grado soldiers being mistreated, that Frelian or Renaitian in question was going to rue the day he was born or something along those lines. Amelia suspected that, being the only Grado soldier she could see in the room, she hadn't really been the target audience for those words._

_Nevertheless she listened, wondering how on Magvel could have managed to peg the prince's personality so utterly wrong._

_

* * *

_

"Ahoy, folks!"

The cheerful call broke the reverie of the two Knights of Renais, and they both turned to behold a man walking up to them, carrying what appeared to be several parcels.

"A victory feast, lads!" The man proclaimed, handing both Forde and Franz a parcel each. "Special rations from the storehouses of Fort Rigwald!"

Forde quickly unwrapped his parcel and whistled appreciatively. "Wow. Salted meats, cold cuts of ham, bread that's actually still kinda soft and chewy, blocks of cheese…"

"And a stoup of wine each!" The man said with great relish as handed the two cavaliers a jug. Even in the dim firelight, Franz could see that it was filled almost to the brim with rich, dark liquid.

"Wow…" He mumbled. "Are the Grado soldiers really fed so much better than us?"

"They wish." Forde chuckled. "I heard there were three commandants in this camp, and one overall commander by the name of Gheb. Likely these four got all the fine grub, and the Grads got the same gruel as most of us."

"'Slikely as not to be true." The delivery boy chuckled. "A night of revels, eh? Happy eating!" Having said so, he turned away, intent of handing out more parcels of food to others.

"You know, what happened to that line about 'winning the hearts and minds of the Grado soldiers'?"

"I guess even that has its limits." Forde grinned. "Plus, I think it'll help shut the rank and file up some." He bit into a piece of meat. "Mm. Quality stuff here. Wonder where they got their cooks."

Meanwhile, Franz likewise unwrapped his bundle, staring at the plethora of food laid out before him – certainly a better meal than he'd ever had for a long time. Hesitantly, he dipped his hand towards a cut of meat – then withdrew it again, empty handed. Then he reached down towards a hunk of cheese – and stopped just short of actually grabbing the piece of food.

He sat there for several long moments as his brother continued polishing off his own share. Finally, he sighed, rewrapped the bundle, grabbed his wine jug, and stood up.

"Don't wait up." He said briefly to his brother before heading off in the direction of the fortress.

* * *

Amelia sat on her bed, her back leaning against the wall. The room was suffused with a dim orange glow, courtesy of several candles on the tables.

The victorious army had treated them prisoners well – or at least as well as could be expected. Instead of shutting them up in the dank and rather filthy dungeons, they had simply assigned the soldiers to individual rooms of the fortress – after checking to ensure that no weapons remained to be used by the Grado soldiers, of course. Frankly, though, they needn't have bothered. For every Grado soldier awash with nationalistic fervour and determined to die for the homeland, there were ten that were simply glad that the fighting was over.

Whether by deliberate decision or simply luck of the draw, Amelia had ended up in one of the better rooms, entirely by herself. While by no means the most opulent or lavish of the available rooms, it was still more comfort than Amelia had, to the best of her memory, ever experienced.

It was simply too bad, then, that she wasn't enjoying any of it.

She felt lonely. More lonely than she had while walking through Grado's countryside, more lonely than the nights she had spent in various country inns, more lonely than she had felt as the only female recruit in Grado's barracks. She wasn't sure _why_, she just knew how it felt.

She felt lonely.

Silently, she pulled up her legs, hugging them close to her chest. Then she sighed.

A tiny grumble from her stomach reminded her that she should probably get started on the dinner that had been brought up to her. It was some kind of thin soup, but it would probably be no worse than anything else she'd eaten in the army.

A soft knock on the door startled her from her thoughts.

"Amelia? Are you there?" A familiar voice called to her, and she felt her heart flutter for the briefest second.

"Franz?"

The door creaked open, and he entered, clutching several packages in his arm. "I thought you might be lonely, plus…" He smiled. "I figured whatever rations doled out to the prisoners couldn't have been too appealing…" As he spoke, he dragged a chair to the bedside table and settled himself on it.

"What's this?" She said curiously as she shifted herself closer.

"Oh, several cuts of salted meat – there's some cold ham here. Some bread that appears to have been baked within the last three days and not a week ago like usual, and yeah, we've got some cheese. It's all from the storehouses of the fortress anyway."

Amelia found it rather difficult to keep from drooling. "And… this is for me?"

Franz chuckled. "Well, I was thinking we could _share_, but if you're that hungry…"

"Ah, no! No! I didn't mean- I'm sorry!" Amelia blurted out. How could she have been so greedy? And when he had been kind enough to bring this up for her too!

"No, don't worry about it. Here, go ahead, take what you want first." The young cavalier shifted his position so he could open another one of the bundles. "Do you drink?"

"You mean like wine?" Amelia shook her head. "No."

"Good, me neither. I used it to bribe the guards to turn a blind eye." Finally, he withdrew a roll of bandages. "Hold out your right hand."

Amelia glanced down at her sprained right hand, still bound in the cloth Franz had bandaged her with that morning. "Why?"

"Well, the work I did earlier was fine for a patch job in the middle of a battlefield, but now I have the time…" Franz shrugged. "I'd like to be more thorough."

"Oh… alright. Th- thanks." Amelia held out her right arm while she used her left to pick up a piece of bread.

As she ate, Franz carefully unwound the bandages already around the wrist, quickly but meticulously replacing it with a fresh dressing. Finishing up, he grabbed a vulnerary and splashed some of the curative mixture onto the bandage, letting it soak through the cloth and into her muscles.

"Should be better by tomorrow night." He remarked as he reached over for a piece of cheese. "Oh, yeah, and in lieu of the wine, I brought some milk." He held up a skin of the creamy liquid. "That okay with you?"

"Of course." Amelia paused, gazing at the hunk of bread she held in her hand. After a long while, she sighed. "Franz…?"

"Hm?"

"Why… why do all this for me? What makes me so special?"

Franz sat back, chewing thoughtfully. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason, I guess. Call me biased if you want." He grinned. "Although, if you want, consider it repayment for helping me out at the jail cells earlier today." Then his expression grew more serious. "Why do you ask? Do you feel uncomfortable or-"

"No! No, of course not." Amelia lowered her head, a half smile on her face. "It's just… it's been so long since anyone's treated me so nicely." She glanced up again. "Franz… thank you."

Franz nodded back. "You're welcome." He shifted his gaze, staring at the opposite wall.

The two of them didn't speak much after that. They merely sat, each enjoying the company of the other.

* * *

It was several hours later that Franz finally stood, stretching and yawning slightly.

"Well, I really should be going, Amelia." He said.

"Mm… I guess." His brow furrowed slightly as he noticed the shadow of discomfort that passed over Amelia's face.

"If you like, I could come again tomorrow." Her expression brightened considerably.

"Would you?"

"Why not?" The young knight shrugged. "Barring unforeseen circumstances, I won't be on duty for most of tomorrow, so I'm free to do as I see fit. And I like being with you."

She smiled. "Thank you… for doing that for me." She gazed downwards towards the stone floor. "I'm just a Grad prisoner, after all."

"Hey, hey. Don't say that." She shifted her gaze back to him, a curious look in her eye.  
"You're Amelia, a soldier of Grado. You're a brave young girl who was willing to stand up and fight for what you believed in… and you're also a great friend."

She nodded, smiled. "Franz… thank you."

"Anytime."

He headed towards the door, pausing only to snuff out a candle along his way. Behind him, Amelia likewise doused the candles near her, plunging the room into darkness.

Silently, he shut the door behind him, head bowed in thought. Then he sighed.

"Prince Ephraim."

"…"

"How long have you been there, my lord?"

"Long enough." The future sovereign of Renais replied dryly. He glanced back at the room. "I assume that was the quarters assigned to that female Grado soldier who seemed to be your shadow for the majority of today's fighting?"

"Yes, sir."

Ephraim folded his arms. "You _are_ aware that I specifically ordered that none of the Renaitians were to fraternize with the enemy?"

"Yes, sir."

"And yet you did so because…?"

Franz gazed back towards the oaken door. "Because she's not my enemy, sir. And she shouldn't be yours, either."

* * *

Back in the inky blackness of the room, Amelia sighed, letting the coolness of the night wash over her, soothing her tired body.

Softly, she slipped into slumber, her last words before she was lost to world a semi-coherent murmur.

"Mommy…"

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	16. Resolution

No Longer Alone

* * *

Do _you_ have Etrian Odyssey yet? Buy it. Play it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The first, feeble rays of the morning sun were struggling to break their way through the fog-enshrouded landscape. Wrapped in a thick blanket of chilly mist, the fortress of Rigwald looked somewhat like an imposing, black giant, towering over and glaring at the denizens that covered the fields around it.

Several Frelian and Renaitian soldiers, up for duties, training, or whatever struck their fancies, wandered sleepily about the area. Several of them stepped past the shattered gates of the fortress, wandering into the sprawling courtyard area.

And it was through this courtyard that two figures ran, encircling the inner perimeter, their deep and steady breathing indication of the efforts they were expending on their training.

Franz looked over his shoulder, offering an encouraging look to the obviously struggling Ross. "Come on, keep it up! Just one and a half more rounds!"

"Hrrrhhh… hrrrhhh…" Ross stumbled in his gait, his face and neck coated in a thick sheen of sweat, even in the chilly morning air. Franz slowed the pace of his own jog, enough so that Ross could catch up with him.

"How… how do you do it?" Ross demanded, not without a fair bit of resentment. "I mean… you're not… that much older than me. And you're wearing armour too!"

Franz shrugged, feeling the heavy metal plates jangle against each other. "It's plain hard work." He said frankly. "Just keep at it, Ross, and you'll outpace me in no time."

The young axefighter let out a snort that was a mix between a chuckle and a groan. Nodding and urging his friend onward, Franz increased his pace.

* * *

"Hey, brother!" Forde raised his arm, beckoning to the young knight. "Saved you some bread if you want it."

Franz nodded gratefully and walking over, using a towel to wipe the sweat from his face as he did so. Settling himself onto a felled log, he extended his hand, taking the food offered from his brother.

As he bit down into the tough bread and chewed, his brother quirked an eyebrow at him. "So, need I ask where you were last night?"

"No." Franz swallowed his current bite. "You needn't."

"That's because I can guess, isn't it?" Forde tapped his chin, thoughtfully. "Let me see now. You wouldn't happen to have spent your time with… what was her name, again? Ah, yes, Amelia, wasn't it?"

"How much are you enjoying this?" Franz commented offhandedly as he tore off another chunk of bread.

"Oh, lots." Forde replied. "Anyway, am I right?"

Franz resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, you are."

"Hmph." Forde chuckled good-naturedly. "I can't believe I let my own brother get the drop on me on the romantic scene! I'm going to have to find a girlfriend, and fa-"

Franz rubbed his forehead. "Remind me again how you managed to become part of Lord Ephraim's personal retinue?"

"It's a mystery to everyone." Kyle said dryly as he walked up to the pair and folded his legs to sit down on a grassy patch.

"Well, _I_ would say it has to do with my amazing physique and combat prowess." Forde shrugged. "And sorry, but there's no more food here. You're going to have to hunt it down yourself."

Kyle rolled his eyes and stood, walking off in search of sustenance.

Forde watched him for a moment before turning back to Franz. "Jokes aside, brother, I'm glad for both of you. You've managed to survive another fight."

"And another one's bound to be in wait for us before long." The young knight shook his head. "I wonder what's going to become of us before the war's over."

"Whatever happens, happens." Forde shrugged as he picked at the last of the bread, popping the crumbs into his mouth.

"Hard to believe you could be so flippant." Franz mumbled sourly.

"I'm being serious here." Forde replied. "I fight my best, and I hope to win." He nodded. "If the day comes that I'm outfought by my foe… then that day comes. Nothing I can do about that."

Franz's expression darkened. "I guess… I'm not like you. I can't be so carefree. I don't fight for my personal gain. For Renais, for General Seth, Prince Ephraim and the Princess… for you, too. That's what I fight for. I can't afford to lose."

Forde shook his head. "Just like Kyle." He said with an exaggerated sigh. "Take the battle too seriously, and you're sure to make a mistake." He grinned. "Why, there was this time where Kyle-"

"I'm sure taking _nothing_ seriously isn't the best recipe for avoiding scrapes either." Franz glanced pointedly at the multitude of scars and nicks that adorned Forde's crimson armour. It was a well-known fact among the knights of Renais that for every battle-mark Crimson Rider Forde sustained in battle, he got another by doing something stupid like falling off his horse and onto a pile of weaponry, painting in the midst of battle and the like.

"Okay, so I'm not the poster boy for your exemplary knight." Forde shrugged sheepishly. "But still, there's more to life than being straight-laced and holier-than-thou."

Franz chuckled. "All right, all right. I know what you're saying."

"Uh-huh. I suppose your visit to Amelia is proof of you knowing how to take life lightly, eh?"

Franz let out an exasperated groan just as Kyle returned with his own food. Bidding his brother farewell, he stood, walking off in the direction of the fortress gates.

* * *

As he neared the archway of Fort Rigwald, he saw Prince Ephraim surrounded by several advisors, obviously deep in though. As he neared, he could hear snippets of the conversation, and subconsciously he slowed his pace.

"…spring up all over the land…"

"…They say the Tower of Valni was overrun by these things."

"…We stand a risk of being waylaid by these creatures anywhere from here to the Capital."

Ephraim blew out a long sigh, and then he caught sight of Franz. Raising a hand, he beckoned the young knight over and hesitantly, he obeyed.

"Franz, while traveling with my sister, you ran into a pack of… otherworldly creatures, correct?"

"Ye-yes."

"Would you say there were a difficult foe?"

Franz frowned. "Well, they were rather weak individually. It's just that there were humongous numbers of them to make up for the lack in their individual strength."

Ephraim nodded. "Well, it'll be rather difficult to hide monsters who depend on overwhelming their foe with quantity." He signaled one of the nearby messengers. "Inform the Pegasus riders and scouts of this new threat, and get them to report back on any activity that may signal the approach of such beings."

"Yes, sire." The people started to disperse, and Franz was about to follow when he heard Ephraim's voice calling him.

"Franz? Stay for a while. I've got something to discuss with you." Ephraim said without looking up from the chart he was currently perusing.

Suppressing an urge to sigh, Franz nodded and stood at attention before his lord as Ephraim continued mapping out a course of action. Several minutes passed before the crown prince of Renais glanced up with a sigh.

"Franz. Concerning your actions last night…"

"Yes, milord?" Franz replied crisply.

There was another long moment of silence before Ephraim sighed and glanced up into the cavalier's eyes. "I've decided… that I will not impede you from meeting with the Grado prisoner."

It took Franz several long seconds before he comprehended the full meaning of the statement. "T- thank you, milord." He finally stammered.

Ephraim kept the stern countenance on his face. "This war has caused too much sorrow and grief already." The beginnings of a smile graced his features. "Do you consider that girl – Amelia – a friend?"

"…I do." He replied softly.

"Then who am I to prevent two friends from meeting?" Ephraim was smiling now. Then his expression hardened. "Although… I plan to set out the day after tomorrow. So if you wish to spend time with her…" He nodded. "Make good use of it."

"I will, milord."

Smiling, he turned to head for Amelia's room, until he noticed that he was still covered in sweat and grime for his morning workout. Not to mention the tunic he was wearing was hardly in a better shape.

"…" He paused and folded his arms, considering his options.

* * *

As he scrubbed at the dirt and grime on his arms, Franz reflected unhappily that the water was freezing.

Still, it probably wouldn't have done to have shown himself to Amelia the way he was. He wasn't sure about the sensibilities she possessed, but he had a feeling he couldn't use female soldiers like Vanessa as any sort of guideline.

As he continued his bath in the still river, he could hear the shouts and calls of Frelians at ease in the nearby forest. From what he could discern, a large amount of their conversation was focused on the Grado soldiers, and most of it was largely negative.

Franz sighed and shook his head. He supposed their unhappiness and anger was only natural, but it wasn't going to help matters any once the war ended. Their target was supposed to be Emperor Vigarde alone – once he and his madness was halted, well… hopefully things could return to the way they were before.

Stepping out of the water, he hastily dried himself and shrugged on a set of clean clothes. After pausing to stretch for a few moments, he headed back in the direction of the fortress.

* * *

Amelia lay on her bed, arms folded across her chest as she pondered what to do. Being cooped up in a room all day was, well, mind-numbingly _boring_, to put it mildly.

Of course, one alternative was carrying out the daily training regimen assigned to her by the officers of the Grado army, but somehow it seemed a bit redundant in this situation, not to mention that she had a hard time at carrying out these torturous exercises on a voluntary basis.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Amelia sat bolt upright.

"C-come in!"

The door swung open with a soft creak and Franz entered, smiling.

"How are you holding up?"

"Oh, fine." She lied. "Just fine." She frowned. There seemed to be something… different about him…

"I didn't bring in anything special for lunch today." He shrugged sheepishly. "Hope that's alright. Frankly, the rations we get are probably no more appealing than yours."

She chuckled. "It's alright. I'm just glad that you'd make time for me."

"Mm. How's that arm of yours?"

"Huh? Oh! It's just fine by now. Thanks for the treatment. I took the bandage off just now." Then she cocked her head to one side, her smile turning quizzical. "There's something different about you today, Franz. I can't place it, but… it's there."

Franz rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Oh. Well, I, uh, I took a bath before coming up."

Her eyes widened at that revelation, and almost instinctively she glanced down at herself. Born and raised in the countryside, she'd never seen bathing regularly as much of a necessity unless you'd done something to really mess yourself up, and regardless, the room she was holed up in didn't have much in the way of facilities. She'd had to find a guard to accompany her to the latrine every time she needed to relieve herself, something that caused her a great deal of embarrassment. That aside, in between not having the time to freshen herself up from the trek that had brought her to Fort Rigwald and participating (however briefly) in a bloody battle had the sum result of ensuring that she was… well, that she was absolutely filthy.

Franz had apparently noticed her expression, because he reached out and grasped her shoulder, causing her to look up into his encouraging smile.

"Anything the matter?"

"Oh, nothing." She said, trying to force a smile. You never realized how difficult it was to be a prisoner until you were a prisoner yourself. "Just… well, compared to how clean you are, I'm…" She shrugged, hoping that it was obvious enough that she wouldn't have to go deeper.

"Oh…" His voice was low, oddly muted. "I didn't realize..."

"Franz?"

"Yes?"

She sighed despondently. "When will… when will I be free?"

He started, obviously not expecting such a question. "Uh… I, t-that is…" He stammered. "Why?" He finally managed.

She shook her head. "I know you're all treating us Grads better than we deserve – we should be locked up in dungeons a thousand times worse than what we have. But I feel… I feel so _helpless_ in here. Like I can't do anything at all."

"Amelia…"

"This probably sounds stupid, huh." She mumbled. "I'm complaining about this to you, and you – well, you've been nothing but great to me, Franz – from the moment that I met you on the battlefield."

She sat silent until she felt Franz's hand on her shoulder. At that, she glanced up a questioning look in her eyes.

"Come on then." He said softly.

"Huh?"

* * *

"All I know is that Prince Ephraim isn't going to be happy with this." The ponytailed knight that was apparently Franz's brother stated.

"Then let's hope he doesn't find out, huh?" Franz replied. The three of them were now making their way through the forested region towards a nearby river.

"Remind me again why I'm agreeing to help you on this?" Franz's brother asked good-naturedly – she was pretty sure his name had been Forde or something like that…

"Because you love your younger brother and you're willing to do him a favour?" Franz shot back.

"Hmm… nah. I think it's more to do with the fact that I want to make sure we don't get a runaway on our hands." Forde smirked at Amelia, and she could feel her face heating up rapidly.

"Forde!" Franz snapped.

"Hey, you can't blame me for this." Forde shrugged. "_You_ may trust her, but all _I_ have to go on is your word."

Franz let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Could we not discuss this with her so close in the vicinity?"

"P-please stop." Amelia said hesitantly to Forde. "I haven't given anyone any reason to suspect me."

Forde shrugged elaborately. "Maybe. But you haven't exactly given anyone any reason to trust you either. Even your 'friendship' with my brother has largely been a zero-sum affair, hasn't it?"

It _was_ true, Amelia reflected bitterly. Ever since she'd met him, Franz had been the one looking out for her, providing for her. Even now he was risking a severe punishment from his commander just for her sake.

Before she could continue her thoughts she was distracted by Franz quickening his pace to put himself in front of his brother.

"Enough, Forde." He said calmly, but Amelia could detect the steel in his voice. "I asked you to help me, true, but that does not give you the right to make disparaging comments about Amelia. If you're going to continue in this manner, then you might as well return to the camp."

There was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds before Forde turned to Amelia. "My apologies, fair maiden." He said crisply. "I didn't intend to cast any doubts upon your character."

Amelia merely nodded tightly and continued on towards the river.

* * *

The instant that he was sure that Amelia was out of hearing range, Franz turned on Forde. "What do you think you're doing?" He demanded angrily.

Forde raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the trunk of a tree. "Funny, brother. I was just about to ask you the same question. Sneaking a prisoner of war out into a forest? Ever since I knew you, you've always been one for the rulebook."

"Oh, as if _you_ wouldn't do the same in my place." Franz muttered.

"Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't." Forde shrugged. "That's not the issue, however. I'm not in your place. You are. And what I want to know is why you're risking your good standing with the Prince for the sake of one girl."

"Because the only reason she's even considered our enemy is because of the country she was born in." Franz snapped. "She doesn't even have the ability to fight. She's not some enemy assassin or master spy – she's a scared girl that joined the army with dreams of glory and found the reality to be sorely lacking."

"Funny, I recall I once knew a young lad who had the exact same problems." The tone in Forde's voice made his intent plain.

Franz snorted. "Why do you think I empathize with her so much? I was just lucky enough to be on a team that won battles. She wasn't."

The older knight ducked his head, fiddling with several strands of his straw-coloured hair. "Fine. I'm not going to judge you. _Or_ your actions. But I'm not going to stand in and take heat for you if things go amiss, okay?"

"I never asked you to." Franz folded his arms and looked off in the direction that Amelia had gone off to bath. "I made the decision, and I'll accept all blame that falls on me."

* * *

A while later, Amelia emerged from the river, feeling far more refreshed and energetic than she had an hour prior.

Slipping into her new tunic and skirt, she caught sight of her reflection in the still water. Nervously, she ran a hand through her still damp hair, trying to arrange it into a more presentable form than the tangled sprawl it had ended up in.

Standing and smoothing her skirt out, she turned and headed back to the clearing where Franz was waiting.

As he caught sight of her approaching, the cavalier broke into a smile. "Feel better?"

"Oh, yes. Lots!" She grinned. Then her expression faded into a curious look. "Franz? Where's your brother?"

"He decided to head back first. He was never much for patience anyway."

"Oh…"

Franz sighed and rubbed the back of his neck before venturing a question. "Amelia… are you ready to go back? Or would you prefer to stay out here a bit longer?"

Amelia bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. Her entire being would prefer it if she never returned to that room again – but she knew that Franz was responsible for her, and every extra second she spent out here increased the chances of her being missing, and him being punished for her sake.

Finally, her sense of honour won out, and she shook her head. "Thanks, but I guess we should be heading back."

"All right, then." Franz nodded easily. "Back to the fort it is."

* * *

Amelia had once again donned a heavy robe that obscured most of her features, allowing her to walk beside Franz as they threaded their way through the camp. So long as she didn't act too out of place, or they didn't run into any unfortunate encounters, no one would've thought to pay them a second glance.

They were almost within a fortress when Amelia heard someone calling Franz's name. Surreptitiously, she turned, catching sight of a woman clad almost entirely in white robes that bore the symbols of the holy men. She was fast approaching the both of them.

"Natasha?" She heard Franz respond. "What is it?"

"Prince Ephraim's calling all the knights of Renais for some sort of council. They've been looking for you."

"Oh." Franz nodded. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll be there shortly." Natasha nodded, smiled, and walked back off.

They quickly found their way back to her room, and as Franz ushered her inside, he smiled at her, promising that he'd be back later tonight.

Amelia managed to keep the smile on her face until Franz was gone. Then, as she turned to gaze at her cage, it crumpled back into a mask of sorrow and frustration.

* * *

The council with Ephraim took longer than expected – he had been detailing and outlining plans for their continued incursion deeper into Grado territory – and thus far reports of the strange monsters had been increasing.

The basic overview was that there was going to be a push southwards to Bethroen. Then, depending on the feasibility of things, they'd probably try for sea route to Taizel, which would provide a more direct route to the Capital.

Also, there had been the reports of the number of monsters increasing, and strategies and steps had to be taken in order to plan for the eventuality that the army would face these creatures in combat. The strategists gave suggestions for their overviews and battle plans, while the knights offered their views on how the battle would likely play out on the field.

In the end, between one thing and another, it was near sundown when the meeting broke up, and dinner was being dutifully doled out to the knights.

Franz had planned to join Amelia for dinner, but a bunch of Frelian knights had somehow roped him into some game involving a cup and several dice, and he was trapped for the better part of an hour.

By the time he was able to break free and head back to the fort itself, the stars had begun to dot the night sky.

* * *

As she heard the door knocking softly, Amelia raised her head once more. "Come in." She said softly.

Franz opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as he caught sight of her, his smile turned into a look of concern. "Hey. How are you?"

"Feeling cooped up." Amelia chuckled.

_It wasn't so much staying in this cage. It was with her being all alone. She always felt better when Franz was around – although the endless reminders that he would have to leave again put a damper on her mood._

"Oh, that's…" Franz sighed. "I wish I could do something to help."

_If only there was some way to stay with him – if he didn't need to go away again. I know, I know, this is selfish of me. But… I just can't help it, can I?_

"…Franz? Could I ask you something?"

_Well, there's no way that he can stay. I mean, he's a soldier and a knight. He's got to follow his lord into battle. Even I wouldn't be so selfish to demand that he stay with me._

"What is it?"

_And so… so, if there's no way that he can stay with me…_

"That cleric that we bumped to earlier, in the afternoon... I thought I heard her speaking with a Grad accent…"

"Oh, yes. Natasha was a cleric in the Imperial Temple." He smiled slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it just makes me feel better…" She shook her head, the ghost of a smile appearing on her face. "That there's a precedent for this and everything?"

"Hm? Amelia, what are you talking about?"

_Then I guess the only way…_

She looked up, gazing into his eyes. She'd spent the better part of the afternoon thinking about this, and, well, she was pretty sure of this. There was always the chance of rejection, of being turned down, but… she was sure. She wanted to do this.

_Is to go with him._

"Franz." She said softly. "I want to fight alongside you. Even if it means defecting from Grado. I want… I want to join the Frelian Army."

(X)

**End Chapter**

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	17. Belief

No Longer Alone

* * *

Any lags in update times will be blamed on Etrian Odyssey, which is the DS game of the half-year, and a pretty good contender for DS GOTY, too. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Ephraim stared at Franz with the sort of unreadable expression that made you want to curl up into a tiny little ball and roll away. This stare continued for several very long seconds, stretching into several very long minutes. 

Apparently Ephraim was well aware of the disconcerting effect his gaze had on his subordinates, for he trained it upon Franz for a very long period of time. However, despite the discomfort the young knight was feeling, a sense of duty to his prevented him from backing down or lowering his gaze.

After stretching the tension-filled silence for just a bit longer , Franz sighed.

"Sire?"

Ephraim broke off the stare and wheeled around to look back over the camp. "Franz," he began in a conversational tone. "Remember how, back when our company was returning from Renvall, I said something to the effect of how I wouldn't be surprised if you started trying to recruit enemy soldiers to our side?"

"…Yes, sir."

"I lied." Ephraim said briefly. Sighing, he turned back to face Franz. "You expect me to accept a deserter from the Grado Imperial Army, who could be, for all I know, a spy or assassin, let her fight alongside us, place the same trust in her as I would one of our trained soldiers, and all of this based entirely on your word that she is to be trusted?"

Franz kept his steady countenance. "Yes, sir. I do."

Ephraim's eyes narrowed. "She's betrayed one army already. What makes her any less likely to betray another one?"

Franz heard the sharp intake of air from behind him; almost by instinct he half-turned to regard Amelia, who had cringed at Ephraim's caustic remark.

Suppressing the urge to sigh, he turned back to face Ephraim. "Milord, please…"

Ephraim glanced at Amelia, realizing perhaps for the first time how hurtful his remark must have sounded. He sighed again and shook his head. "Franz, come with me. We'll talk in private."

He turned and took two steps away before halting. Then, he turned and looked at his guards. "Forde, you come along too. We might need a third party on this."

* * *

Once they had reached a secluded spot in the woods, Ephraim whirled around dramatically. 

"Alright, so I gave you permission to spend time with Amelia. Noting that that permission does _not_ cover, implicitly or otherwise, you being given allowance to remove her from her quarters and take her into the forest – and don't glare at your brother. If I relied on _him_ to be my eyes and ears on the ground, I'd never get anything done."

"Gee, thanks, your majesty.'

"It's my job to know what goes on in the rank and file – let's just leave it at that." Ephraim continued. "Like I said, leaving that aside, what's gotten into your head that you're actually asking someone like her to be allowed into the Frelian Army?"

Franz sighed. "Well, milord, it's like this…"

* * *

"_I don't think – but – but what –" He shook his head. "Amelia, are you sure you know what you're asking?"_

_She nodded. "I do."_

"_But…" Blowing out a breath of air, Franz gazed into Amelia's eyes. "Amelia, I don't… I don't think there's any way I can convince them to let you join us."_

_She frowned, obviously displeased with his answer. "Why not? You let Natasha join?"_

"_Well, back when she joined up with us, it was Princess Eirika who was leading the group. She was a lot more… open to offers of aid, especially since we were really understaffed. Lord Ephraim is a lot more… straight-laced."_

"_I still don't see any difference."_

"_W-well, for one thing, when we first met Natasha, she was being hunted down by Grado soldiers. That made it a lot easier for us to trust her. Whereas when I first met __**you**__, you were trying to… well…" He left his sentence unfinished._

_She gave a shaky smile. "Yeah, I guess attempting to kill one of Renais' best couldn't have gone down very well."_

"_Flattery will get you nowhere." Franz remarked coyly. Then his expression became more serious. "Amelia, let me say something."_

"_Hm?"_

_The cavalier hesitated, drew in a deep breath and looked at her with a smile. "I'd love to have you to travel with me, Amelia. You're a great friend, you're smart, I like talking with you…" He paused. "However… I wouldn't want you to be a soldier."_

_Amelia's tiny smile vanished. "But why?"_

_Franz hung his head. "Amelia, this may sound hurtful… but you know as well as I do that you can't fight. If you're on the battlefield, the enemies you face… they're not likely to give any quarter. I mean, if you'd fought some other soldier instead of me… you might not even be here now."_

"_But I can train myself! I- I can become stronger and-"_

"_In Renais, a soldier must complete a minimum of three years of basic military training before he or she is ever allowed onto the frontlines. Is it the same in Grado?"_

_The recruit shrugged. "Under ordinary circumstances? I wouldn't know. But only had about a month's worth of basic training and… well, here I am."_

_Franz closed his eyes. "Then you understand how big a risk you're taking."_

"_I do."_

_Franz nodded, and the smile returned to his face. "In that case, I can talk to Ephraim about letting you go with us a noncombatant. It'll be easier to convince-"_

"_No."_

_Franz's face fell. "Why not?"_

_Amelia kept her head low for a few moments, finally prompting Franz to speak again. "Amelia?"_

_Finally, she lifted her head, and Franz's eyes narrowed slightly. She appeared… different. He couldn't quite place it, but… Wait…_

_Resolve. When he had first met her, she had been scared and confused, unsure about her duty and tasks. Now, a steadfast determination was etched across her face, even in the reassuring smile she gave him._

"_Franz… when I started out on my journey, I made a promise to myself… a vow." Her eyes grew more distant as she called up old memories. "My dream and my goal hasn't changed. I want to be a soldier, Franz." She gazed up at him. "The only difference is that, well, this time, I want to be fighting on your side."_

"_Amelia…" Franz sighed. Then he quirked a slight smile. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow."_

"_Huh? Why?"_

"_Because I'll probably be repeating this same conversation again." He paused and shrugged. "Except this time with Prince Ephraim."_

_

* * *

_

"How astute." The leader of Renais said dryly. "He sighed and turned away. "Franz, I appreciate that Amelia is a friend of yours, and that naturally neither of you want to be parted from each other, especially in a time of war when so much is in flux. However!" He folded his arms. "As a leader, I have to look beyond that. There are myriad risks with accepting someone like Amelia into the Grado army. For all any of us know, she could be some assassin or spy assigned to-"

"What about Natasha?" Franz demanded – or said in a as-close-to-demanding-as-he-dared manner.

"A rather different situation with its own set of unique circumstances." Ephraim sighed. "Firstly, when you first met Sister Natasha, she was currently under threat by Grado soldiers – Grado soldiers who were unaware that there were Renaitians or Frelians in the nearby vicinity. Second, Natasha provided extremely valuable information regarding the Emperor Vigarde's motives and intentions behind the war – thus allowing us to trust her more easily. Third, independent sources – namely, Joshua – confirmed that they had indeed been hired with the intent of killing a Grad traitor – and he had the contract to prove it." Ephraim paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "Amelia possesses… none of these things in her favour. When we first met her, she was currently engaged in the process of trying to kill us – however shoddy a job she may have made of it. She has thus far provided nothing of any tangible use to any of us. And lastly, we've absolutely no proof whatsoever that she's not still with Grado – except her word, which of course must be held in suspicion. Do you see why I cannot, in good conscience, allow Amelia into the army?"

Franz was about to reply when he heard a soft cough, and saw Forde stepping up. "Excuse me, milord."

"What is it, Forde?"

"Well," Franz's elder brother smiled genially. "I just thought things were getting a bit heated, so I decided to step up to offer a slightly more… objective view on matters."

Franz could tell that the prince was rolling his eyes. "Very well, Forde. Go ahead."

"Ahem!" Forde stepped in between the young knight and the ruler of Renais. "The case against Dame Amelia joining is simple when summarized – there are simply too many unknown variables such as possible defections and whatnot."

"Correct."

"Well, let's clear some things up first." Forde coughed. "Prince Ephraim, are you telling me – in complete honesty – that you believe someone like Amelia to be capable of spying or assassination?"

"It's a good spy's job to not _look_ like a competent spy."

"She can't even hold a lance properly."

"…"

"Defence rests." Forde said dryly. "Next point." He turned towards Franz. "Franz, knight of Renais. Of all of us you have been in contact with Dame Amelia for the longest period of time."

Franz frowned, uncertain as to where this was going. "Uh-huh." He said hesitantly.

"Good." Forde paused. "Would you vouch for her reliability and trustworthiness?"

"Yes, I would."

Ephraim coughed slightly. "Of course, you realize that your brother's proximity towards Amelia is one of the reasons why his word is suspect regardless?"

"Now, Price Ephraim!" Forde exclaimed. "Is that hardly fair? If we're not going to allow people who know Dame Amelia on a more intimate basis to vouch for her, then how are we to decided whether or not she is indeed trustworthy?"

"No games with semantics, Forde." Ephraim retorted smoothly. "Perhaps you've forgotten that the acceptance of Amelia lies not in the gray area of 'what if', but in the concrete grounds of proof that she is, indeed, a trustworthy character."

"Hm." Forde grinned. "Then it appears we are stuck at an impasse."

"Anything else to add?" Ephraim said in a manner that made it apparent he expected the answer was no.

"Yes, actually." Forde grinned. Franz spotted Ephraim barely reining in a sigh.

"Proceed."

* * *

Amelia settled down on the stump of an old tree, sneaking the occasional nervous glance at the direction in which Franz and the Renaitian Prince had vanished into the undergrowth. They'd been gone for a fair bit of time already, and Amelia couldn't help but wonder if things were going badly. 

She bit her lip as she thought about Franz possibly being on the receiving end of the prince's tirade. She was resolved to join Franz and the Frelian Army, true, but she didn't want anyone to make trouble for anyone in the process too.

At least they had been kind enough to leave her out in the forest, free to do as she pleased. Not that she had much of an idea what to do, but it certainly beat being stuck in the room.

"Wow."

Amelia started. She'd been so caught up in her thoughts that she'd completely failed to notice someone walking up on her. Twisting around in her seat, she saw a pink-haired girl about her own age was walking up to her.

"It's beautiful!" The girl exclaimed.

Instinctively, Amelia glanced around herself, and not finding anything that she would rate as being particularly beautiful, gazed back at the girl with a confused look on her face.

The girl smiled. "Your armour, I mean. It's so… well, shiny! Not like the other soldiers."

Amelia frowned, perplexed. Armour? Prisoners weren't allowed to wear armour – and she definitely hadn't been wearing any. So where -? Then her gaze feel upon her hip, where her hipguard was curled tightly around her lower belly and thighs.

Of course. The guards had considered it more of a belt than anything and after ensuring that it hadn't contained anything of a dangerous or threatening nature, they had allowed her to keep it. The make had been unobtrusive enough that she hadn't much noticed it when she put it on in the mornings.

Still, there it was, and apparently the sunlight had caught it such that it gleamed in a rather inviting way to… um…

"T- thanks," Amelia said hesitantly. "Er… um…"

Sensing Amelia's hesitation, the other girl giggled. "I'm Neimi. Pleased to meet you."

"Oh," Amelia smiled in reply. Standing, she quickly saluted Neimi. "And my name is Amelia. It's nice to meet you, Miss Neimi."

Neimi blushed at this, a bashful smile appearing on her face. "Oh, please, I'm nobody important. It's just Neimi. And you needn't salute either."

"All right, then… Neimi." Amelia smiled. Neimi was apparently in possession of a rather cheery disposition, if nothing else.

"Anyway, your armour really looks great."

This time it was Amelia's turn to blush. "Ah, it's just… it's just a hipguard. No big deal."

"Yeah, but they remind me of the michew berries that grew near my hometown."

The recruit's eyes brightened. "Michew berries! I've eaten those before! They're really shiny and sweet, and there's just enough tart in the aftertaste!" She nodded as she remembered nights around her surrogate father's table, tucking into a freshly baked michew pie. "They're really good in pies, too!"

"Oh, I know! So they grow near your hometown, too? They're so tasty and yummy and-"

"Have you ever gone berrypicking for them? I always end up eating at least half the bundles before I get back." Amelia said with an embarrassed smile on her face.

"Ha ha, yup!" Neimi's easy laugh signified that she was no stranger to such matters. "You know, one time, when Colm – he's my friend – came back exhausted after being away the whole day, I gave him some of the michew pie I'd just baked, he took one bite, and then he forgot all his exhaustion!"

"Wow, you must be great at cooking!" Amelia said slightly enviously.

"It's nothing much, really – just a few skills my mom taught me." Neimi replied with an embarrassed chuckle. "Hey, if you'd like, I could teach you how to make those pies."

"Oh, _would_ you?" Amelia practically squealed with excitement. "That's great!"

"Of course!" Neimi flashed a grin at her. "If we see any michew berries on our journey, we'll pick 'em, and then I can start teaching you."

_Journey?_ Amelia's face fell. Of course. Neimi was with the Frelian Army, after all.

Neimi frowned as she caught sight of the sudden change in Amelia's expression. "Amelia? What's wrong?"

Amelia jerked back. "Ah, nothing, nothing. I just, uh, forgot that I've got something to do." Having said so, she turned away, with the intent of heading into the forest.

"Aw…" She heard Neimi's disappointed groan. "Okay, Amelia! But you gotta promise to come and talk with me again sometime! It was really fun!"

Amelia turned back and smiled back at Neimi. "I had fun too. If I get the chance, I'll definitely come and talk to you again."

"Great! It's a deal!" Neimi said with a wide smile on her face. Thus saying, the pink-haired girl turned and headed back to the main camp.

Amelia smiled at her newfound friend's departure, turned around, and promptly got a face full of turquoise tunic.

And she staggered back, clutching a painful nose, Ephraim merely quirked an eyebrow – whether in amusement or anger, she couldn't readily tell.

Before anything else was said, she saw a vague blur out of the corner of her eyes, and Franz was there by her side. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah… fine." She sighed. Then she straightened out, trying to look at the Renaitian prince in the eye. It wasn't easy.

Ephraim regarded her evenly for just a moment longer than she was comfortable with, then nodded. "Recruit, come with me for a while."

* * *

Once they were relatively alone among the forest trees, the prince turned back to her. "I've heard Franz's reasons for why you should join us, I've heard Forde's reasons for why you should join us, but I think it's time I heard _your_ reasons why you should join us – especially since this was apparently your idea, at least from what I understand." 

Amelia stood at attention. "Understood, milord."

"And please don't mimic a pillar whenever you talk to me, it makes me uncomfortable." Ephraim continued.

Amelia deflated slightly at this, and shifted her stance into a more comfortable one.

"Sir, I joined the Grado army with the intent of becoming stronger – of being able to fight and protect my homeland, and those that I cared for."

"As have many soldiers over the years." Ephraim noted.

Amelia didn't respond to that. "However… I…" She sighed. "During the battle for Fort Rigwald, I couldn't… Everything changed."

"You were willing to surrender without compulsion towards an enemy knight." Ephraim said. "While I allow the possibility of Franz having some sort of charm about him that might have led to a weakening of resolve-"

"Wha- No! NO! It's not like that at all!" Amelia sputtered, feeling her face turning hot.

Ephraim pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "It was a _joke_, recruit. Nevermind, carry on."

"R – right, your, um, your majesty." She paused. "Your highness… milord? Um…"

"'Sire' will do fine." Ephraim sighed.

"Y – yes, sir." Amelia mumbled. "Anyway, I fought – well, I _tried_ to fight Franz, and I lost. But he didn't act the way I thought… an enemy would act." She rubbed the wrist silently, a tiny smile of memory on her face.

"Later," she continued. "He visited me in my room, to try and cheer me up and make me feel better. He talked with, laughed at my jokes and told a few of his own, even though I was a prisoner." She closed her eyes. "I'm not sure when exactly I made the decision, but…" She nodded, determination in her eyes. "I realized… that Franz was the kind of soldier I wanted to become. Both strong… but kind and compassionate. Willing to look out for an enemy prisoner. It was… different, in Grado. We were taught to give no quarter, that our foe was evil and... well, not very nice." She coughed nervously. "And – and that's why. I want to be on the side Franz is fighting for because… because I believe it's the right side."

"…"

"…Sir Ephraim?"

"It's going to be a lot harder to decide which side is the right one as the war drags on." He finally replied, in so soft a voice that Amelia had to strain to hear. Straightening up, he looked at her. "And you will need to learn much from Franz, as he will need to learn from you."

"S – sir?" Amelia questioned, still unsure. Was he saying…

"Report to the throne room of Fort Rigwald at the passing of the fifth watch. That is all. Dismissed."

"Ah ! Tha – I mean, y- yes! Yes, sir!" Hastily saluting, she turned and departed.

* * *

Once Amelia was gone, Franz stepped out of his hiding spot. "Lord Ephraim." 

"Franz, do you want to know why I asked you to observe this?"

"…I have some idea, milord."

"Hmph." Ephraim smirked. "That's right. A knight of Renais can't be too foolish." He folded his arms. "Amelia is your friend, Franz. She will now also be a comrade on the battlefield – and I feel safe in telling you that she'll be one of the weaker links for a while yet."

"…I understand."

Ephraim turned away. "Whatever reservations I may have about letting her join our army, once she becomes part of it, it is my responsibility as leader of the army to ensure that she is safe." He sighed. "Amelia feels safer with you, Franz." He turned back to look the young knight in the eye. "Make sure that feeling is based in reality."

Franz nodded. "Understood, sir."

* * *

"If you don't know how to write your own name, just press your thumb onto the ink, and then press the thumb above the line, okay?" Franz whispered softly to her. 

"Got it." Amelia replied.

They were both standing outside the throne room, waiting for the passing of the fifth watch. Franz was trying to reassure Amelia, and Amelia was trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

"You're signing on as a provisional recruit – the terms are usually easier off than for knights." Franz continued. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah, thanks."

"It's time." Forde said as he rounded the corner. "In you go, lass."

Swallowing hard and trying to appear more calm and collected than she felt (which wasn't saying much), she opened the doors to the chamber.

Ephriam glanced up from where he was currently poring over a oaken table that had an elaborate map spread out over it. "Punctuality." He noted. "A good trait."

Extending his hand to an aide, he motioned for a scroll to be handed to him. Unfurling it, he spread it out on the table. Amelia frowned as she stared at the incomprehensible mess of squiggles and lines. It was bad enough that she couldn't read, but did all nobles needed to write so _stylized_?

"Will you need the terms of be read out to you?" Ephraim asked kindly.

"Y – yes, please… sir."

The aide crossed over and picked up the scroll. "Henceforth, the lady Amelia is to be accepted into the Frelian Army, bearing the rank of Provisional Recruit, as is to be under the command of Prince Ephraim, Lord of Renais, and whomsoever he shall see fit to place above her in command.

"She is to paid a fee of twenty gold coins for every week of service to the Frelian army, and the crown of Renais. Henceforth, these are the duties to be carried out while in service to the Army of Frelia…" Amelia steadily tuned to the aide's rather crackly voice out as she tried to still the trembling inside her.

"Do you accept?"

"Wha- huh?" Amelia was abruptly brought back to reality by the sound of Ephraim's voice. "I – I'm sorry?"

"Do you accept the terms, Dame Amelia?"

She took a deep breath and nodded, confidence in her voice. "I do accept the terms, Lord Ephraim."

"Then step forward and seal the contract."

Spotting an inkwell, she stepped over and dipped her thumb in it. Then, taking it out, she pressed it against the parchment bearing the contract.

When she looked up again, Ephraim was smiling at her. "Welcome to the Frelian Army, recruit."

That night, as she lay down in her bed, she reflected that the room didn't seem quite so stifling anymore.

* * *

"We'll be leaving in an hour." 

The soldier had stopped by her room to deliver the hasty message. Awakening, Amelia had quickly gotten herself dressed – and then paused as she caught sight of what had been lain by the doorway.

Her full set of armour, all polished to a gleaming shine. Walking over, she picked up the breastplate, feeling the familiar weight of it.

Slowly, with deliberate precision and care, she slipped the heavy pieces of metal over her body, feeling and testing her body's movement as each new piece was added.

Finally, she stood ready. It was _still_ a bit heavier than she felt comfortable with, but hey, it was a small price to pay.

_I don't think I ever dreamed that I could have ended up in this situation._ Amelia thought to herself as she wore her gloves, feeling the thin black material stretch as she flexed and clenched her hands in fists.

_But now that I'm here…_

"Amelia?" She turned at the gentle voice behind her.

Franz stood in the doorway, smiling. It took her several seconds to note that he was carrying a long, thin instrument, wrapped in oilcloth.

"Here, this is yours." He said softly. Extending his arm, he handed the bundle to Amelia.

Slowly, deliberately, she shrugged off the wrapping, drawing out the gleaming silver lance from inside. As Franz watched, she stepped back, giving it an experimental twirl.

"You took good care of it."

Franz shrugged. "I promised."

_I wouldn't give this up for the world._

"It's time to go."

She nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."

* * *

**End Chapter**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	18. Rivals

No Longer Alone

* * *

Yes, I'm still alive.

In between mid-year exams and copious amounts of Ouendan 2, however, update times on my story have suffered. But I'm back, now. And hopefully I'll provide you with an enjoyable chapter to read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

_General Seth,_

_My greetings, General. Recently, the Frelian Army succeeded in their assault on Fort Rigwald. This led to the retreat of Grado forces along Frelia's border, and provided a starting point for our invasion of the Grado Empire._

_We have not received word of you, or Princess Eirika, since you have began your mission. I trust that you are faring well. Sir Forde sends his regards._

_Also, during the battle for Grado, I ended up meeting a Grado recruit by the name of Amelia. She ended up joining our army. She has a cheerful personality, even though her combat ability really isn't up to snuff. She's been assigned to my squad, and well, I'm actually pretty glad for that. Because, after all, it's pretty much because of me that she ended up joining in the first place._

_I wish you succ_

Franz crumpled up the paper into a ball and tossed it behind him. It flew, bounced once, twice, and rolled into a similar pile of several other similarly crumpled of pieces of paper.

He sighed. Getting the correct tone – just the correct amount of formality so it didn't sound like he was discussing the weather with an old friend, but with enough of a casual undertone that he had come to take with his mentor – was proving to be more of a headache than he had anticipated.

With a sigh, he pulled out another sheet, silently pondering how best to begin.

* * *

Amelia let her gaze slowly roam across the encampment.

After breaking camp from Fort Rigwald (and leaving the Grado prisoners to a Frelian detachment), they had journeyed a fair distance into Grado territory, and they were now setting up a temporary camp to spend the night in.

It was funny. Almost everything in the Frelian Army functioned the same way that the Grado army did. There were the daily exercises and drills, the same sort of tasteless rations she had come to expect of army food, the marches and the discipline.

And yet everything felt different. She felt…more comfortable, in a word. More accepted. Of course, a large part had to do with the rather personal note on which she had entered the Frelian Army, but the feeling persisted, all the same.

As she made her way through the camp, she caught sight of a flash of gleaming white. Natasha was busy tending to the wounds of a young axefighter. As she neared, she could hear her speaking in admonishing tones to him.

"Ross, honestly, what were you thinking, challenging someone like Sir Kyle to a duel? He's one of the best knights in the army!"

"That's the point!" The axefighter replied hotly. "I have to test myself against the best of the best – that's the fastest way to improve myself."

"Oh, really." Natasha shook her head. "Ross, what exactly did you learn from that duel which lasted all of seven seconds?"

Ross fell silent for a moment. "To protect my chin next time." He finally replied.

Natasha let out a tiny chuckle. "Right. Well, then, you're patched up, so off with you. Remember not to push yourself too hard."

As Ross departed the area, Amelia stepped up. "Sister Natasha?"

The cleric glanced up, an inquisitive smile on her face. Her gaze fell on the emblem of Grado embossed on the young girl's armour. "Ah, you would be Dame Amelia, correct? Franz told me about you."

Amelia quirked her head. "Oh, Franz knows you?"

Natasha's cheek turned just the slightest shade of pink. "Well, yes. He's been… my unofficial guardian, of sorts."

"Oh. I… I didn't see you with him during the battle at the fortress."

"Yes, I was usually at the back tending to the wounded." Natasha turned slightly. "I'm heading to the supply centre. Walk with me?"

"Sure." It was on her route anyway.

As the two of them walked side by side, Amelia noticed that Natasha kept sneaking glances at her, so the next time the cleric glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, Amelia stopped.

"What is it?" She inquired in what she hoped was a friendly tone. "Come on, you can tell me."

Natasha coughed. "W-well," she stammered. "I was just… I was just wondering what it's like."

"Hm? What's _what_ like?"

"Being forced to take up arms… against your own country." Natasha swallowed. "At the end of the day, we're both deserters, Amelia. You and I. The only difference is… well, my job is to heal – to restore and sustain life. Once a battle is over, I can treat the soldiers of Grado with the same care and concern that I would treat any other wounded. But you… you're a soldier. Your job… is to fight the enemy. To fight Grado. Your country." She let her gaze fall to the ground. "I can't imagine it being at all pleasant."

Amelia herself was silent for a long while. Then she sighed and nodded. "Yeah. It's… I haven't had much chance to go against Grado soldiers… but I know if I want to be a soldier, I'm going to have to do it sooner or later."

She paused. "And when the time comes… I guess… I'll just have to deal with it."

Natasha smiled comfortingly. "Well, if you ever need anything, come to me. I'll do my best to help you."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Wait! Wait!" Franz called out to the Pegasus rider just before she took off. Glancing curiously at the knight, she accepted the sealed scroll from Franz.

She would ride through the night before reaching Castle Frelia. Assuming there wasn't a breakdown in logistics, another Pegasus Rider would sooner or later be dispatched to Eirika's troupe, carrying with her the letter he had just finished penning.

The rider looked around one last time to ascertain that no other last-minute requests were forthcoming, and with a word of command the Pegasus Knight took to the sky, legs kicking wildly against the air.

She was just on the verge of becoming little more than speck in the graying sky when he heard the sound of footfalls behind him. Turning, he broke into a smile as he caught sight of Amelia. "How are things?" He questioned.

"Oh, they're – fine. Just fine." He caught the slight hesitation in her voice, along with the shadow of discomfort that passed across her face. For a brief moment, he considered probing deeper but decided against it – he trusted Amelia to come to him if it were truly something she couldn't handle.

Apparently eager to change subjects, Amelia looked at him. "So! What were _you_ doing?"

"Nothing much." Franz replied easily. "I was just giving the letter I wrote to the courier-"

"Letter?"

"Yeah, to General Seth. You know about Princess Eirika, right? General Seth, the Silver Knight, is traveling with her. He's the one who taught me everything I know about-"

"No, no, wait, you mean you can _write_?"

Franz blinked. "Well, yeah. Most of the knights of Renais are taught basic reading and writing skills. Of course, General Seth made me go a bit deeper than that, but…" He shrugged. "You mean you can't?"

Amelia flushed slightly. "Well, no. I grew up in a rural village, and most of my education involved the stuff you'd learn in a blacksmith's shop."

"Oh." Franz rubbed the back of his head. "Well…" He began. "If you'd like, I could teach you some of the basics. Nothing too fancy – the alphabet, and some of the simpler words."

"Thanks, but…" Amelia rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Training's already taking up most of my free time. Maybe when, you know, things have calmed down a bit."

"Sure, the offer's open for as long as you need it." Franz gazed up at the evening sky, slowly fading into dusk. "Come on, we've got some drills scheduled."

"Right with you."

* * *

"So, as it turned out, Ephraim had attacked Renvall and got away once reinforcements arrived, but then we showed up at Renvall and invaded it instead. Once Ephraim heard about the attack he turned around and headed back to the fortress – just in time to rescue us from the trap they had set." Franz shook his head. "It's a good thing he did, too. I don't think we'd have gotten away with our lives if it weren't for Ephraim."

Amelia looked at the leader of the army, who was currently engaged in conversation with several of the tacticians. "He really is unstoppable on the battlefield, isn't he?" She murmured softly.

"Well, he's the prince of Renais, so naturally he's been brought up under the tutelage of the best of Renais' combat instructors. And he also trained under Grado's General Duessel for a long period of time – so he's incorporated the absolute best of both country's fighting styles."

Amelia's smile grew wistful. "There's such a gap between us and… well, people like them, isn't there."

"Yeah, I guess there is." Franz chuckled. "But if I keep comparing myself to the best of the bunch like General Seth and Lord Ephraim and my brother… I'm just going to end up feeling depressed. I prefer to challenge… well, to challenge myself. To see how strong I can grow. And if one day, I can stand on the same level as them, then…" He paused. "Speaking of which, Amelia…"

"Hm?" She turned to him, but before he could continue, the ground roiled under his feet.

"Whoa!" Caught off guard, Franz was sent sprawling onto the grass. After ascertaining that he hadn't injured anything, he picked himself up, wiping away some of the wet blades of grass that had gotten stuck onto his face. Amelia, meanwhile, had kept her footing, and was now giggling merrily at his misfortune.

"Here," she said, offering a helping hand. Once he had gotten back onto his feet, she winked at him. "In Grado, tiny quakes like these are really common. Either you get used to it soon, or you're going to spend a lot of the time on the ground."

"Yeah, yeah." Franz mumbled as he dusted the rest of himself off. "It caught me by surprise, that's all."

"Anyway, you were saying?"

"Right, where was I… oh, yeah!" Franz turned to Amelia, a smile on his face. "Amelia… do you want to be my rival?"

_That_ caught her by surprise. She blinked twice in rapid succession. "R-rival?" She blurted out. "I don't – I mean –" She hesitated. "I don't want to have to fight you…"

Now it was Franz's turn to blink in shock. "What?" Then comprehension dawned. "Oh, no, no, no. It's not like that. It's more of a competition. See, I'll try to be better than you, and you try to be better than me. We'll try to outmatch each other, that's all."

"Oh, okay…" She said hesitantly. "But… Franz. You're already so much better than me at… at… well, _everything_!" She chuckled nervously. "There's no way I could be your rival."

"Not everything." He shifted his gaze to the lance strapped to Amelia's pack, it's head carefully wrapped to ensure it wouldn't accidentally hurt someone. "I'm really lousy at using a lance. Let's start there, okay? We'll each practice our lancework, and we'll see how well we do."

She frowned. "Alright, if you insist. But why the whole 'rivals' thing?"

Franz coughed nervously. "Yes, well… you remember how I was talking about challenging yourself? Well, that was actually something my brother told me a long time ago, when he was just a junior knight too. And then he met Sir Kyle – the two of them argue and bicker over nearly everything – but their rivalry and friendship helped spur them on to greater heights. They may argue a lot, but they respect each other, and they grow together, too." He gazed out into the horizon. "I always… I always wanted a relationship like that."

Amelia swallowed. "W-well, I'm not sure I'm up to the task, but… I'll try my best!"

Franz chuckled. "Trying your best is all that's needed in the end." He turned around, raising his arm. "Let's work together, Amelia."

She grinned and nodded, raising her own arm so that it hooked around his. "All right! I won't let you down, Franz!"

He smiled gently back in return. "Neither will I, Amelia."

* * *

"I have it on good authority that once we reach Bethroen, Prince Ephraim is going to give the soldiers leave to buy some food from the town." Forde said.

"The poor fishmongers." Kyle replied. "They'll be stripped off their stock before an hour is out."

Behind the two of them, Amelia traded a look with Franz, he shrugged, a resigned grin on their faces. It was only natural that, given half the chance to taste real food again, soldiers would leap at it.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot!" Forde frowned. "We got a message about Princess Eirika. Apparently she had to forsake the sea route to Rausten due to some trouble in the seas. Seems there's a 'ghost ship' of some sort causing trouble for seafarers."

"Ghost ship. Right." Kyle muttered.

"_Anyway_, Eirika's taking the land route to Carcino, and apparently Carcino's currently embroiled in a civil war. So the situation there is rather sticky."

Kyle groaned aloud. "And you neglected to tell us this sooner, why?"

Forde shrugged. "Hey, it wouldn't have done much good either way, right? We can't do anything about it back here in Grado – short of ending the war quickly, of course. Oh, and before I forget again," Forde reached into his doublet and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper. "The General sent you a letter, Franz. Know anything about it?"

"Y-yes. Thanks." Relieving Forde of the letter, he was about to peruse its contents when there was suddenly the distant roar of confused voices.

Franz's gaze went up as he hastily stuffed the letter into his satchel. It could wait until later…

Amelia gazed uncertainly around. They were near the head of the entire procession, but there were enough soldiers in the way between her and the front lines that she couldn't get a good view of anything – save that they were near the outskirts of Bethroen.

"Over here!" Forde called out, standing atop a rise. Franz hurried there, Amelia close behind, and they gazed out over the quiet seaside town.

Well, it wasn't very quiet now, that was for sure. There were two sides engaged in a conflict here – with one having the obvious advantage in numbers. Amelia quickly scanned the crowd. Grado soldiers made up the majority, and they were facing off against –

No. She squinted, rubbed her eyes. It had to be a trick of the light. There was absolutely no way that Grado soldiers would be bringing their weapons to bear against…

"General Duessel." She breathed, shocked. How in the world…? But it was indeed the legendary Obsidian, and his personal retinue, being slowly but surely backed into a corner by the relentless wave of Grado knights. She took a half-step backwards, shell-shocked. Had the whole world gone insane?

A sudden roar swept back from the front of the army, and all around her she saw the Frelian army mobilizing for battle.

"We rescue Duessel! **MOVE!**" Ephraim's bellow rent the air, and Amelia turned towards the front. She had to do something-

A sharp whistle distracted her as Franz called for his steed. An instant later, Neige was at his side, Franz hurriedly mounting him.

"I'm going on ahead, Amelia." He called to her. "You-"

"No!" She shook her head. "I'm coming with you!"

"Wha- But…" Franz gazed down at her, clearly unsure about what to do.

"I have to…" She swallowed hard. "I have to help Duessel. Please."

"…Alright. Just don't - don't do anything stupid." Franz nodded. "Come on up."

Clambering atop Neige, she sat behind Franz, one arm curled tightly around his torso.

Silently, he drew his blade, gleaming in the afternoon sun. Turning in his seat, he gave her a confident smile, and she returned it.

"Ready?" She nodded in response.

"Let's go."

* * *

**End Chapter**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	19. Charge

No Longer Alone

* * *

This story is fast becoming my 'main' update story – I guess partially because it's looking to become my longest story thus far. Oh, well. Here's to hoping I continue to provide an enjoyable read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Franz kept a tight grip on Neige's reins as she galloped into the outskirts of the town. Forde and Kyle, each atop their respective mounts, kept pace with him easily – as did the rest of Frelia's cavalry.

He could feel Amelia's arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, her body pressed close to his back. Of course, the fact that they were both wearing combat armour made this a rather uncomfortable proposition, but he managed.

He could see the first gleam of scarlet armour in the midafternoon sun, Grado soldiers assigned to form a defensive perimeter around the town to prevent unwanted interference. Of course, they probably hadn't counted on the entire Frelian army showing up while they were currently occupied with eliminating the General…

Before Franz could reach the defensive line, however, he caught flashes of white far above him. The Pegasus knights, outstripping even the horse-riders in speed, had surged forward, and were now diving down upon the Grado soldiers, they gleaming swords and lances brought to bear against their enemy. Unprepared as they were for an assault of such magnitude, the defending forces were quickly thrown into disarray.

Of course, the fliers would make easy targets for archers, and he could already spot several of the bowfighters taking aim at low-flying Pegasus Knights.

Franz urged Neige onward, and as he neared he lashed out with his foot at the nearest of the archers, who was sent sprawling. Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, he twisted, bringing his sword up to-

The added weight of Amelia clinging tightly to him threw him off, and his blade failed to deflect the axe strike properly. Though he managed to knock it aside, the heavy weapon still grazed his right arm, drawing a red line across the fabric of his tunic.

Gritting his teeth, he was about to wheel around so he could properly confront the axefighter when his opponent let out a yelp of pain and collapsed, an arrow sticking out thigh.

"Neimi!" He heard Amelia's grateful yell and looked up to see the gentle archer giving them a short wave before returning to the fight, notching another arrow and preparing to loose it at any available targets.

Steering himself away from the worst of the fighting, Franz glanced over his shoulder as his traveling partner. "You okay?" He questioned.

She was breathing rather hard, her face pale. From their respective positions he couldn't tell if she'd suffered any injury during their short tussle, but she appeared physically fine.

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and focused on Franz. "We… we have to get to General Duessel." She stated, the urgency clear in her voice.

Franz's eyes roamed the battlefield, to where Forde and Kyle were – what else? – already on the verge of breaking though the defensive line, rallying several of the horseback riders to them.

"Got it." He nodded in what he assumed was an encouraging manner, and wheeled Neige around. "Hang on tight."

* * *

As Franz guided his horse through the messy battlefield, Amelia clung tightly to him, trying her best not to wince every time she saw fresh blood spilled.

She desperately wanted to contribute in some small way to the fighting, but her lance was currently strapped tightly to her back, and she wasn't sure enough of herself that she could draw it into a battle ready position. Not to mention that her combat ability would be severely limited by the cramped position she was in right now.

In front of her, Franz lashed out with his blade, striking down a soldier that had foolishly tried to assault him. As he fell, Amelia risked a glance at the man – his wounds probably weren't fatal, but he would be out of commission for a good while.

And then they were through the defensive line, the spearhead of riders sweeping past the central bridge. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a flash of turquoise, and Commander Ephraim – she still wasn't used to thinking of him as a Prince – rode up on his own steed, practically jumping off it while still in mid-gallop.

As he hit the ground his lance flashed in the sun, whirling and striking down the soldiers that now rushed up to meet him. In a space of less than twenty seconds he had dispatched seven opponents, the remaining ones backing up warily and shifting around their weapons. None of them seem willing to tempt the Renaitian's ire any further.

Ephraim paused to survey the situation. "Forde, Kyle - you're with me. The rest of you, get to Duessel and form a perimeter around him. Go!"

"That's us." Franz said as he kicked away a Grado soldier that had been bothering him. "Let's go."

The rest of the fighting seemed to Amelia to be one big blur – she vaguely remembered them meeting several cavaliers in combat, an encounter that left Franz with a wound across his forehead from which blood flowed freely – but otherwise the next moment of clarity she had came when they finally reached the docks. There, the Obsidian and his bodyguard had been driven, courageous, powerful rats, to be sure, but in a trap all the same.

It seemed incredible to her that he had been able to hold out for so long – even with her inexperienced eye, she could see the exhaustion and anxiety all over the tiny beleaguered group. But they still held formation, fighting with superb discipline and skill.

As the Frelian army reached the back ranks of the attacking force, the Grado soldiers quickly wheeled around to face this new threat. They were obviously crack troops – far more combat worthy and disciplined than the bunch stationed near the town entrance.

As soon as Franz pulled back on the reins to slow Neige down, Amelia hastily dismounted, drawing her weapon and preparing for any assaults. Several of the other knights, apparently feeling more comfortable with foot-based warfare, also got off their mounts. Others, including Franz, remained atop their warhorses.

Still, when the actual fighting began, Amelia wasn't exactly _sure_ of what was going on, except that as of yet no soldier had singled her out as an opponent, and that she was left there, holding her lance, unsure of what to do.

Finally, the recruit decided that sticking close to Franz would be her best bet, and she turned to head for him – eyes widening as she watched him attempt to face down three lance-wielding soldiers all on his own. Sure, he was on horseback, but the press of soldiers made him nearly immobile, and since the three soldiers were coming at him from three different directions, the young knight was having immense difficulty in countering their blows.

Breaking into a run, she lifted her lance into a ready position. All right… they had thought her the basics of lancefighting… she could do this.

The soldier she had been targeting, focused solely on the cavalier as he was, failed to notice the recruit charging up behind him.

There was something strangely dispassionate about her first ever kill. She supposed that she should be grateful that he was facing away from her, and that his face was covered in a helmet anyway, such that she could see the expression on his face.

With one less opponent to deal with, Franz was able to kill one soldier and disable the other, allowing him to dismount his horse to regard her – and the limp corpse that was now lying on the floor.

"Amelia…" He began, but before he could get any further his eyes widened and he shoved her away. "Down!"

She tumbled, rolled, looked up, and realized that a phalanx of soldiers had attempted to ambush her. Franz's quick reaction was probably all that had saved her life, and now he was facing off against two sword-wielders and an archer, his sword blurring in a desperate dance as he tried his best to fend off the repeated assaults.

Meanwhile, one soldier had singled her out – apparently he had been able to tell that she was relatively inexperienced in combat. This one war no helmet – just some pieces of loose fitting leather armour, and as he neared the fallen recruit he brought his sword down in a vertical slash.

Instinctively, Amelia brought her lance up, arms outstretched directly above her head as the blade collided with the shaft of her weapon, in between her two hands. The two were now locked in a deadly contest of strength.

Pushing up with all her strength, Amelia mentally willed her arms not to bend, while the soldier leaned over her, putting all of his body weight into pressing downwards.

Despite her best efforts, she was slowly but surely beginning to give way, her opponent's sword moving down ever so slowly as she struggled against it.

There was a flash of white and the Grado soldier was sent sprawling.

From atop her Pegasus, a green-haired rider gazed down worriedly at the young recruit. "You okay?"

Dropping her weapon, gasping for breath, and feeling like her arms had caught fire, Amelia managed a nod. Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia saw Franz finishing off the last of his opponents – the archer – with a punch to the face, laying the Grad soldier flat.

Her concerns allayed, the sky rider was about to take to the skies again when there came shouts of alarm and dismay. Shifting her gaze to the sky, Amelia's eyes widened as she caught sight of dark maroon shapes on the horizon.

Any Grad knew about the Wyvern Riders, of course – how they were Bern's pride and joy, their magnificent battle prowess, how a properly trained wyvern could fight right alongside his master, bringing claws and scales and teeth and wings to bear against land-locked foes that they encountered.

Despite all this, however, this was the first time Amelia was actually seeing any of them for herself – and in combat action too. With loud cries of war, the wyverns descended upon the Pegasus Knights, the two of them battling it out for aerial supremacy.

Even as she watched, a detachment of them peeled away, heading for land – and the group that was currently defending General Duessel.

Amelia swallowed. The odds of being able to win a bout against a wyvern rider was heavily stacked against her, to say the least. Silently, she began to back down, trying not to draw the attention of the massive winged beasts.

A line of archers had formed a line and as the wyverns descended they loosed their arrows upon the wyrms. Several of the bolts pierced the scaly hide of the beasts, drawing furious bellows, but a depressingly large number of them simply bounced or skipped off the tough skin of the flying lizards.

And then they were upon the knights.

Amelia turned away, trying to find Franz and some sort of shelter – not necessarily in that order, when suddenly she the sun was blocked out for a brief instant, and she found herself lying on her back.

It took a second later for the pain to register, and in that space of time she realized that a wyvern had landed in front of her and swatted her to the ground with its wing. Drawing in a gasp of air, she tried to pull herself to her feet –

Only to let out a choked groan as the scaled beast calmly planted a paw on her chest. It was easily large enough to cover her entire torso, and the sheer strength of the creature's limb pressing down on her made breathing difficult.

Drawing in pained gasps of air, she glanced up wildly – as far as she could tell, the Rider hadn't noticed that his mount was pinning down a wayward recruit – his attention was diverted by the wounded Frelian knight he was currently finishing off. Amelia shuddered as the soldier's body went limp and collapsed to the ground.

"Unhand her!"

The challenge came so abruptly that it took several seconds for Amelia to register that it had been Franz's voice. Straining her neck, she was just able to make him out, standing in front of the wyvern.

_Are you insane?_ She wanted to shout. She didn't know exactly how good Franz was, but you simply didn't challenge wyvern riders to one on one duels unless you were extremely confident or suicidal.

The rider took a long look down, noticing for the first time the recruit trapped beneath. Amelia shuddered at the cold look in his eyes, and the unpleasant smirk that formed on it.

"You want her, come claim her." The rider replied, shifting his lance around.

The one advantage Amelia could see was that the wyvern couldn't afford to lunge forward, because that would mean releasing Amelia. Of course, a stationary wyvern could be almost as dangerous as a fully mobile one, given that the opponent was a youth armed with a sword.

_Have to help… him…_ Amelia thought to herself. Wriggling frantically, she was able to reach for the dagger tucked away in her belt.

* * *

"_Here, take this with you." Franz said softly._

"_A dagger?" Amelia glanced curiously at the gleaming weapon._

"_I know your weapon of choice is the lance, but there are times when a large weapon like that can become unwieldy. This could help you out of a bind."_

"_Alright." Amelia smiled as she turned the dagger over in her hands – there was a designed carved into the handle, making it easier to hold. "Thanks. I'll make good use of it."_

* * *

Amelia paused for a moment to take a deep breath and to steel herself – and then she plunged the dagger into the wyvern's foot with all her might.

The initial results were slightly disappointing – the tough scales resisted for longer than it should have, thereby bleeding off a lot of the momentum. Consequently, the blade didn't pierce as deep as she would have hoped. Still, the wyvern's furious scream appeared proof positive to her that her actions had yielded _some_ fruit.

Franz quickly took advantage of the wyvern's distraction, ducking forward into the space between the wyvern's long neck and its right wing. His blade flashed upwards and the rider jerked back with a curse, clutching his bleeding arm.

Franz seemed ready to continue his assault - to the point where he seemed on the verge of clambering up the beast itself – when the wyvern flapped its wings, battering Franz and knocking him to the ground.

"Franz!" Amelia cried out. But she could do nothing for the stunned knight. As Franz hit the ground, the wyvern shifted its weight, letting the rider aim his spear right at the young cavalier's heart.

"**STAND DOWN!"** The shouted command raged over the battlefield. Craning her neck, Amelia caught sight of another wyvern and its rider landing amidst the chaos of the battle. "We've no more reason to oppose Frelia."

The rider that currently had Amelia pinned down quickly shifted his gaze between the newcomer and the winded knight lying on the floor, trying to recover.

"I said stand down, soldier." The newcomer repeated.

There was a gleaming of metal, and Amelia saw the wyvern rider raise his lance to stab down.

"FRANZ!"

_SCCHRKT!_

_THOCK!_

Amelia noticed that a lance had suddenly appeared stuck to a nearby wall. Given the massive cracks radiating out from where the lance had been impaled, she could only surmise that it had been thrown with great force.

She then noticed the enemy wyvern rider had collapsed onto the floor, not very far from her. She also noted that he was missing a head, and after a second, realized that it was also on the ground, a fair distance away from the body to which the head belonged.

The newcomer whistled once, and the wyverns in the vicinity began flapping and taking to the sky – and thereby releasing Amelia.

Coughing heavily, she clambered to her feet, stumbled forward several steps, leaning against a post for support. And then she happened to glance up to see General Duessel standing not two feet away from her.

The Obsidian's eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed. He shook his head and lowered his battle-axe.

"Turn away, girl. I don't want to have to fight you."

_Huh?_ Still coughing, Amelia shook her head, trying to make herself understood. "N-no. You've… _cough, cough_, you've got it… got it wrong."

"Amelia!" Franz was at her side, supporting her. "Are you all right?"

"Breathing… hurts…" She mumbled.

"Your armour's all bent in." Franz murmured worriedly. "It may be affecting your breathing. Hang on." Settling her down on the floor, he quickly undid the leather buckles of her breast plate, removing the plate of metal from her chest.

Amelia glanced down at the mangled piece of armour – indeed, the centre of it _had_ buckled inwards, pressing tightly against her chest. Taking several deep gulps of air, she mentally sighed with relief as the crushing pain in her lungs slowly but surely began to subside.

"What in the… a Renaitian?" Amelia suddenly remembered the presence of General Duessel, and tried to offer him a weak salute.

"What's going on here?" The Obsidian questioned.

Amelia was, however, prevented from answering by the sudden arrival of Prince Ephraim, bearing a cut just above his cheekbone but otherwise looking no worse for the wear.

"Ah, you're safe, General! Does my heart good!" The Lord quickly strode up to the group – and Amelia noted the flash of concern on his face as he looked at her. Then he turned to regard the General.

"Help me… stand." She said softly. Franz nodded, and by helped her to her feet.

"Franz, Amelia…" The two of them looked up to Prince Ephraim. "believe it best that the two of us are left alone for this." He shifted his gaze to the far end of the town. "Most of the fighting is over by now, so there shouldn't be any trouble. And _you_," and here he shifted his focus to the exhausted and bedraggled Amelia. "Have obviously seen better days – go to the local inn and get some rest. Don't worry about the fee – I'll cover it." Thus saying so, he turned back to the General.

"Here, c'mon." Franz offered, and Amelia nodded in acquiescence. Slowly, the two of them staggered off to the nearby inn.

* * *

Chapter End

* * *

I know, this chapter was pretty much all action, no introspection, etc, but the next chapter should be more a lull if things go according to plan.

Anyway, thanks for reading, please review.


	20. Breeze

No Longer Alone

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I'm back! And the 100 reviews barrier has been broken! Thanks to all who reviewed!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Pulling out the rumpled sheets of paper, Franz sighed. The battle had been a rough one, and most of the letter General Seth had sent him now looked a right mess. Well, it couldn't be helped. Smoothing out the sheets as best he could, he settled back on the wooden chair and began to read.

_Franz,_

_I am pleased at the good news to bring me – both that you are unharmed, and that the Frelian army, led my King Ephraim. As for the contingent traveling under the Lady Eirika, we have met battle once, against several mercenaries in Port Kiris. However, the battle was not a major one, and we survived with only a single casualty._

_The sea route has been denied us due to several issues – chief among them that the superstitious townsfolk have reported sightings of a ghostly ship on the waters surrounding the continent. This is an inconvenience, but a relatively minor one. The Lady Eirika has decided that we are to follow the land route to Rausten, which would take us in the same path with the prince Innes. Perhaps, if we are fortunate, we may be able to meet up with him._

Franz frowned. The letter had arrived along with the news that Carcino was in a revolt, with pro-Grado elements being the chief insurgents. If the latter had traveled along with the news, the revolt certainly had to be known to the General. Yet he hadn't made any mention of it, or the possibility of Innes being in danger. After all, the Frelian prince had been passing through Carcino to reach Jehenna.

"Odd." He murmured to himself as he continued reading.

_Progress remains relatively unimpeded, and we hope to achieve our goals shortly._

_That aside, Franz, there is a rather more serious matter that I wish to address._

_In your letter, you detailed the circumstances surrounding your meeting up with a Grad deserter. Granted that I have not met her and that I am unaware of her personality and temperament beyond what you have detailed in your letter, I cannot but remain wary of you trusting her so easily._

_I know you have a trusting, compassionate nature, and it is something that I believe is a positive trait in most situations. However, in times of war, the hardening of the heart is sometimes necessary. I will trust your judgment in this matter, especially as I cannot observe her for myself, but I must urge you to exercise caution when dealing with_

"What'cha reading?" Amelia mumbled sleepily from her position on her bed.

"Hm? Oh, you're awake." Franz turned to smile at her, folding the letter in half as he did so. "This is the letter from General Seth that I got earlier." Putting the letter away, he stood and walked over. "Feel better?"

"Mmm." She yawned and set up, stretching her arms as she did so. "My chest still hurts a bit, but it's no big deal."

"Heh." Franz grinned. "Natasha wanted me to tell you that your injuries won't anything major, so if you want to go and soak in the sights, feel free."

She tilted her head slightly. "You mean you waited in here just to tell me that?"

He chuckled. "No, not really. I had some stuff to do myself. But I'm off duty now, so…" Before he could continue, there was a knock on the door.

"Franz?" Forde poked his head in. "Thought I'd find you here. Hey, Amelia." She barely had time to nod in reply before the knight returned his attention to his younger brother.

"Lord Ephraim's looking for you and Kyle. Since I've found you, you might as well head to the gates – that's where he's waiting."

"All right." Forde nodded, and he was gone.

Franz smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Amelia. It looks like I can't come along with you. Maybe later."

She shook her head, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay, then." Franz headed for the exit. "I'll see you later."

* * *

The scent of the sea was something Amelia hadn't had time to notice earlier – but it was certainly something she noticed now – it hit her with a force that was almost physical as she stepped out from the darkened (and frankly quite stuffy) interior of the town's inn.

Most of the inhabitants had been closeted into their respective homes on orders of General Duessel in anticipation of a battle involving him and Ephraim. While such a battle had certainly occurred, it had done so in a manner that neither of the two would have imagined.

"Well, all's well that ends well." She said to herself. The battle was over now, and the town had shifted rather quickly back to its relatively normal functions. The fact that the majority of the interested parties had no desire to harm civilians was definitely a good thing.

She hadn't had much of a goal in mind when she had ventured out into the town, and after reaching the town square she decided that slumping down onto one of the benches and watching the proceedings of daily life was as good a pastime as any to occupy herself with. She knew Bethroen was considered one of the busier port towns, and it was in sharp contrast to her sleepy home of Silva.

And while Serafew was usually earmarked as a busy town, everything had seemed strangely quiet and subdued when she had arrived there. She was now prepared to think that it was on account of the Grad rulers being… well, lousy rulers, but she still didn't like dwelling on negative thoughts involving Grad soldiers.

"…" She sighed. Earlier, she had fought against Grad soldiers. Okay, the majority of the fighting hadn't much been like what she'd expected, but it had been a fight, all the same. At first she hadn't had the time to ponder it, but now that she did…

"I knew this was going to happen." She murmured to herself as she hung her head. "The instant that I decided to join Franz. I just… have to keep at it."

It was nearing dusk, and the setting sun splashed fiery hues over the townscape as Amelia sat there in silence, relaxing.

She was on the verge of closing her eyes when she caught sight of a detachment of Frelian soldiers exiting a pub, obviously in high spirits. She had never studied the finer details of wartime strategy and the importance of troop morale, but it didn't take much of a leap in logic to deduce that having conquered a supposedly 'invincible' fortress on their first major battle and having successfully neutralized a Grad General on their second was going to result in a rather positive effect on morale.

Just then, she caught sight of Prince Ephraim, out of his combat gear and striding purposefully towards the tiny group of slightly tipsy soldiers.

"Recruit Hinell!" He snapped in an authoritative tone. "Is Recruit Hinell present?"

"Yes sir!" One of the soldiers saluted. "What do you need me for, Lord Ephraim?"

Ephraim stood in front of the – now noticeably quieter and less rowdy – group, arms folded. "Yes, I have need of you to answer a simple question. Recent reports have reached me that details you treating one of the captured Grad prisoners with an inappropriate degree of harshness. Is that correct?"

The soldier blanched. "Well, I wouldn't rightly say-"

"Yes or no will do fine, soldier."

Having engaged in conversation with the Prince before, Amelia recognized his sharp, terse way of communicating, but it apparently caught Recruit Hinell of guard, for he blinked and almost looked as if he were going to lurch away.

"I'm waiting, Recruit."

"Well, Prince Ephraim, sir, he was giving me lip, and wasn't treating me with respect, like _he_ had been the winner in the battle or somesuch-"

He was interrupted as Prince Ephraim stepped forward smoothly, both arms reaching up to grab hold of the unfortunate soldier's tunic. As the tough material bunched up under the Prince's fists, Ephraim lifted the stunned soldier clear off the ground.

Before Recruit Hinell could begin to struggle or offer any sort of resistance, the Renaitian ruler had swung his hands out in a gesture that was a mix between a push and a throw. The soldier impacted – rather loudly – with the cobbled pavement of the town square and as he lay there trying to recover some of the wind that had been knocked out of him, the Prince spoke again in a clear voice.

"Our war is not against Grado – nor its soldiers. Our war is against _the Emperor_, and whatever madness drives him. If we must fight Grad soldiers to achieve our aim, then so be it – I will not be deterred. But _otherwise_, we are not to give anyone _any_ cause for further resentment among the populace and military of Grado. Do I make myself clear?"

In between pained wheezes, Recruit Hinell managed a nod.

"Good. Your pay for this week will be docked by half – and believe you me, the next time tales of such excesses reach my years again, you'll be _begging_ for a simple cut in your pay by the time I'm through with you. Now, as you were."

The soldier scrambled to his feet and hurriedly staggered back to the tavern he had just come from – apparently his encounter with the Renaitian Prince had shaken his nerves badly. The remaining Frelian soldiers quickly and quietly dispersed, each to their individual tasks – wary not to provoke anymore of the Prince's ire.

Ephraim sighed as the last of the soldiers vanished, and let his gaze sweep over the town square, only to stop when his sight came to rest on Amelia. After a moment's consideration, he began heading in her direction, and subconsciously, she began to scoot over on the bench to give him room to sit.

"Amelia." Ephraim smiled as he neared her. "Are you feeling better?"

"Ah – I'm just – just fine, Lord Ephraim. Thank you for asking." She blurted out, trying desperately not to trip over her words as she did so.

"Not at all." Ephraim shrugged. "You're a part of the army, and as the army's leader I have to ensure the wellbeing and comfort of my soldiers." He paused, recalling the scene from several moments ago. "Extenuating circumstances aside."

While Amelia wasn't too sure on the exact definition of 'extenuating', she felt she could guess what he was referring to, and she frowned. "That was… well, it was rather harsh, your majesty."

"Please don't call me 'your majesty'," Ephraim mumbled as he folded his arms. "I hear that and I start thinking about my father." He paused. "Anyway, you were saying?"

"Y- yes, well, I just thought you treated the soldier a bit harshly. I mean, _I'm_ from Grado, and it didn't really seem like that big a deal."

"It's called deterrence, recruit. Was I a bit over the top? Perhaps. But that ensures that next time soldiers will think twice before pulling such a stunt again. Besides, splitting an enemy soldier's lip isn't acceptable behaviour in the least." He shrugged.

"Oh. Well, I guess when you put it that way…"

"Mm." Ephraim murmured. Then he glanced up. "So, is Franz coming soon, or…?"

She blinked. "What? I… he isn't with me."

Ephraim raised an eyebrow. "He's not?"

"No! I mean," she flushed as the implications of what Prince Ephraim was saying became clear. "It's not like we're joined at the waist or something!"

Ephraim sighed. "I suppose."

Now it was Amelia's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Actually, I was told from Forde that you wanted to meet Franz at the gates."

"Huh. Odd, I don't recall ever having issued any order of that sort." The Renaitian prince sighed. "Perhaps I should go sort this out. Fare you well, recruit."

"A – and you too, you maje – Master Ephraim!" She called after him.

* * *

"It's been half an hour, Forde. Are you _sure_ Lord Ephraim is coming?"

"He told me to meet us here, and so here we are, okay? Stop fussing, Kyle!" Forde shot back.

Franz sighed to himself as he watched the two knights bicker. He wasn't entirely sure if Prince Ephraim's failure to show up was the result of a mistake on Forde or the Prince's part, but he _was_ pretty sure that he didn't care much.

Just as he was about to stand up in order to work some life back into his legs, he saw the Prince rapidly approaching. Standing up, he quickly saluted. "Lord Ephraim."

Ephraim was barely within earshot when he started speaking. "Right, apparently there's been a bit of a mess up somewhere if you all think that I'm supposed to be meeting up with the lot of you. What I want to know is how this mistaken impression came about."

Both Franz and Kyle shifted their rather accusing gazes to Forde, who shrugged. "I was told that you wanted me to report here by Sir Garcia's kid."

"You mean Ross?" Ephraim rubbed his temples wearily. "I don't think I've ever directly addressed him in my life. Alright, look, there's no meeting scheduled or anything – I'm sorry for so much of your time having been wasted, you're free to go get your dinners or your drinks or whatever it is suits your fancy."

The three knights saluted the ruler of Renais once, and then dispersed.

* * *

"Hm… still pretty light." Franz smiled to himself he glanced up the evening sky. "Going to grab a nice meal at the tavern is starting to sound better and better." Then he halted in midstep. _Maybe I should try to find Amelia and ask her if she wants to join me._

"Where would she be, anyway?" He mumbled to himself. Subconsciously, he reached into his pack, drawing out his skin of water. Taking a long gulp from the contents, he replaced the cork on the pouch and was about to put it away when he heard a gentle female voice calling his name.

He turned. "Natasha? What is it?"

She smiled as she walked up to him. "No, nothing much. I just wanted to see if you were doing alright."

"Well, yes, I'm perfectly fine." Franz smiled. "A couple of close calls in battle notwithstanding."

"Yes, thanks. By the way, how is Dame Amelia?"

"Hm? Oh, she was fine when I saw her last."

"Oh, you mean you are not with her right now?"

"Well, no…" Franz paused. "Is there any particular reason I should be?"

"N- no, it's just…" Natasha chuckled lightly. "You _have_ been spending the majority of time with her these past few days. I just assumed it natural that you would be here. Sorry."

Franz laughed as well as he tucked his water pouch back into his satchel. "I suppose you're right. I don't know – I like spending time with her. Although I'm not sure if she feels the same way."

"If you're as kind and courteous with her as you are with me, I'm sure she has no objections." Natasha replied, a slightly mischievous smile on her face.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"By the way, Franz…"

"Yes?"

"That satchel you have there… it's not standard issue, is it? I haven't seen any of the other knights carrying one."

"Oh, this old thing?" He smiled as he ran his hand over the rough and worn material of his pack. "Actually, I made it. By myself, and all."

"Really?" He couldn't tell if Natasha looked impressed or bemused.

"Yeah. See, this pouch here holds the water bottle, this one here stores some emergency rations, that one carries herbs with curative properties, these are for various materials like rope and torches. Also, I've modified the straps so it won't shake about while I'm riding."

"Well, that's quite impressive. You're certainly good with your hands."

"Eh." Franz quirked a smile. "Thanks. There's really… not much else that I'm particularly good at." He paused. "Would you like one? It'd be pretty handy, I think, to carry all your healing salves and potions and whatnot."

"Well, that'd certainly be wonderful, but… wouldn't it take up too much of your time?"

"Well, I'm not saying I could get it done by tomorrow." Franz shrugged. "The work might be a bit slow, but, yeah, it's no real trouble at all."

"Well, if that's the case, then I'd be happy to accept." Natasha smiled gratefully, before a look of slight alarm appeared in her eyes. "Ah! The time! I've got to go check on the people in the infirmary!" She began to head off. "Goodbye, Franz!"

"Goodbye!" He called after her.

He sighed as he heard his stomach give a slight growl of protest. "Now I really want a nice, hot stew." He mumbled to himself.

* * *

Partially obscured by the growing darkness, Amelia had stood there, watching silently as Franz had started talking with Natasha. At first she'd thought about going up and joining in the conversation, but, well, she hadn't wanted to seem like she was rude or anything. Besides, the two of them had appeared to be enjoying their conversation.

Now that Natasha had left, Amelia once more thought about going up to say hello to Franz – maybe they could go get dinner together or some such…

Once more she stopped herself, for reasons she didn't entirely understand. The short conversation she had had with Prince Ephraim floated up in her mind, causing her to stand back.

"Maybe I _have_ been spending too much time with Franz lately." She mumbled to herself. "Sure, he's really nice to me and all… but I don't want to feel like I'm dragging him down." She paused, nodded to herself. "Right. I guess I can leave him be for tonight."

She turned around and gave a little squeak of surprise. "Ge – general Duessel!" She sputtered. For the Obsidian was standing right there, arms folded, a look of bemusement on his face.

"And what might you be doing, lass?" He questioned.

"N – nothing." She stammered guility. "I was just… uh, thinking about where to go for my dinner tonight."

"That's all, hm?" Duessel stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I suppose I can't fault the soldiers for not being fond of the rations that get doled out to them." He paused. "As it so happens, I'm heading for one of the local eateries myself. Would you care to join me?"

"Huh?" She blinked. "Are you – but I can't! I mean, I'm just a recruit, and you're the Obsidian! I even deserted from Grado's Army." She finished lamely.

"You're a deserter, eh? Well, that explains things." Even though there was no trace of accusation in the Obsidian's voice, Amelia still had to hang her head.

"Well, as it so happens, this old fool here has been branded a deserter and traitor to the crown as well." Amelia's eyes widened and she gazed up in shock. To think that the legendary Duessel could ever... Suddenly, Amelia realized just how old and weary the mighty warrior truly was.

"My offer for dinner still stands." Duessel said. "If you want, think of it as two refuges who have nowhere else to go sharing their experiences and a meal."

"Alright, General Duessel." She said softly. "If it's not a bother, then I'll be glad to accept."

* * *

The sun had long since set by the time Amelia started back towards the inn. The Obsidian had had matters to discuss, particularly with Prince Ephraim, and so he had departed for the acting command centre where the Prince most likely was.

As she walked, she silently pondered the extent of the Obsidian's plight. They were now both branded deserters from Grado, but she hadn't for a second fooled herself into thinking that their situations were in the slightest iota comparable. She had chosen to leave the Grad army of her own volition, and in practical terms, she hadn't lost much, while simultaneously gaining several friends in the Frelian army.

General Duessel however, had (based on his own recounting of the events over dinner) been suddenly branded an oathbreaker by Selena Fluorspar, herself a general of Grado. After having been forced into a battle for his own life (a battle he would have almost certainly lost eventually), he was now part of the Frelian army, his years of loyalty and service to the Grado crown completely negated.

She shivered. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must be life to have one's entire life's work pulled out from under you, and she sincerely hoped she would never find out.

As she pushed open the door to the inn, she caught sight of Franz sitting hunched over a table. By the light of several scattered candles, she could see whatever he was holding in his hand glinting slightly. With a frown, she stepped closer. Was he… sewing?

"Franz?" She said softly, not wanted to startle him.

"Amelia?" He turned in his seat, a gentle smile on his face. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd get back."

"Franz, what are you doing?" She said as she gazed down at several strips of rough material.

"Hm? Oh, this? I'm making a satchel for Natasha."

Silently, Amelia noted that he hadn't bothered to call the cleric by her title of 'Sister'. Out loud, she said, "Satchel?"

"Yeah, she noticed the pack I always carry with me, and I offered to make one for her." He said as he turned back to his work. "How was Bethroen? Did you get your dinner?"

_It must have been when those two were talking earlier._ "Bethroen is fine. And yes, I had my dinner already."

"That's good, then." Franz glanced up. "You really should be going to bed soon, too. I know the injury isn't serious, but you need to rest up and get fully healed faster."

She nodded and stood, heading towards her room. As she climbed up the rather rickety wooden stairs, she couldn't shake off a strange tightening in her chest that she knew had nothing to do with the injury she had received earlier today.

* * *

The next morning, Franz suppressed a yawn as he stood at the port, staring out at the ships arrayed before him. Close by, General Duessel and Prince Ephraim were conversing.

"So basically, they were unwilling to take to sea because of rumours of a supposed ghost ship going around these waters, so we decided in the interests of expediency to just buy the boats from them."

"A rather large expense." Ephraim sighed as he ran a gloved hand over his face.

"Yes, but it's the fastest way to Taizel. From there we can strike out for the Imperial Palace proper."

"I suppose it can't be helped." Ephraim mumbled. "All right, get those ships boarded. I want us to be well on our way before the sun grows hot."

"Franz!"

He turned around to see Amelia coming up to him, her belongings already stuffed into her pack beside her.

"Amelia." He smiled back in return. "Had a good night's rest?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded. "We're heading off already, then?"

"We really don't have much time. This sea voyage could take a couple of weeks, after all." Franz shrugged. "So, yes, we'll be leaving shortly. According to the lists, we've both been assigned to the same ship that Prince Ephraim is on."

"General Duessel too." She said softly. "He told me about that yesterday night."

"Oh, you met him? Anyway, I don't think there should be much cause for concern – Grado's not known for its navy, so it's unlikely we'll be meeting them in battle on the seas."

She didn't say anything, merely nodded. Franz's smile turned quizzical.

"Amelia, are you all right? You just seem a little… quieter this morning."

"Nah, it's just… I've got a lot on my mind." She offered him a thumbs up. "Just give me some time to think about it and I'll be fine."

"If you say so." He sensed a bit more behind it, but pushing the matter probably wasn't going to help anyone. He dropped it.

"All right, everybody!" He heard the Prince below. "All aboard!"

"Shall we, Dame Amelia?" He asked, indicating the ship.

"We shall, Sir Knight." She replied gamely.

Together, both of them strode up the ramp onto the ship.

* * *

Chapter End.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	21. Cloudy Skies

No Longer Alone

* * *

Fire Emblem DS has been announced – and apparently it's a remake of the first one. More Marth fics in the section, I guess…

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Haven't found you sea legs yet, huh?"

It was in such a manner that Franz was greeted by his elder brother as he emerged onto the deck. Not bothering with a proper response, the young knight merely sighed despondently and stumbled over to the centre of the ship's deck.

"I don't think I've ever seen a face that green before, you know." Forde continued his much unwanted commentary as he kept pace with Franz, a sickeningly pleasant smile on his face.

Franz would have shot back a retort except that at that moment the boat crested again, once more causing his stomach to heave, and him to utter a choked groan and to lean over the side of the ship.

Nothing came out, for the rather excellent reason that everything in his stomach had been expunged a long time ago. After gagging for several long seconds, he felt his brother's hands on his back, giving him an awkward but nonetheless comforting back rub.

Finally able to catch his breath, the cavalier straightened out again. "Somehow, I never thought a sea voyage would be so… miserable." He muttered.

"Well, I think you're just more sensitive than most." Forde gazed out over the sea. "The weather here is really about as smooth as it gets. If you want stormy seas, you really should check out the southern coast of Grado. Huge waves, howling winds, and once in a while you even get a lovely hurricane."

"I'll pass, thanks."

"All right, all right." Forde chuckled as he continued rubbing his brother's back. "Anyway, you know your tips on sea travel – stay near the centre of the boat, don't run too much, and try to get some fresh air."

"What do you think I'm doing now?" Came the rather grumpy reply.

"I'm just going down the list. Next, don't eat heavy meals – not really a problem with this army's cooking, try to sit down, try to get a back rub…"

"You're not making this any easier, you know."

"Well, if you're going to be Mr. Sunshine like that, then I suppose you don't need the continued administration of massaging to your back." Forde leaned over and ruffled his brother's hair – the hand was quickly shoved away.

"You should go find Amelia." Forde called as he walked away. "I'm sure she'd be happy to fuss over you and make you feel _all_ better!"

Franz merely sighed again. Then he glanced up.

The fog was rolling in.

"Oh, great." He grumbled. "Now the weather's even changing itself to match my mood."

* * *

"Hi – _YAH_!" Amelia lunged forward, the polearm in her hand smashing into the straw dummy set up in the room.

"Not bad." Her trainer – Garcia was his name, she remembered – smiled at her. "You're still throwing too much weight into your attack, though – you shouldn't do that unless you're absolutely sure it'll take out your opponent."

"Ye – yeah, but…" Amelia paused hesitantly. "It's just – this wooden pole's a lot lighter than the spear I normally use… when I fight with that, I can't do much with it unless I put in a lot of energy."

"Well, then we'll need to focus on building up your strength and stamina." The burly-chested man nodded in approval. "Still, that's enough for now – we'll have another training session after the evening meal." He paused and chuckled. "It still surprises me how a greenhorn like you can feel so comfortable on a boat that you can train like you do."

"Eh…" Amelia flushed and rubbed the back of his head. "It's… I dunno… I've never really been on a boat before."

"Well, it comes naturally to some people, I suppose." Garcia shrugged. "Run along, lass. You're probably tired out from all the training by now."

Amelia nodded and left the room, feeling an odd sense of elation at having earned the grizzled warrior's approval. After two days at sea and under his tutelage, she could tell that she had improved a lot – still nowhere near as good as Franz, of course, but it was a start.

So happy was she that she utterly failed to notice a loose plank in the flooring of the ship – in her defense, it wasn't like the interior of the vessel was particularly well lit or anything. Still, her foot caught against it, and with a yelp of surprise, she was thrown forward.

"Ack!"

Fortunately, her fall was broken. Not so fortunately, if was broken by way of her slamming into someone who had been darting down the hall at top speeds.

"Waugh!"

"Argh! OWW!"

Picking herself up from the floor, Amelia cringed as she saw the person she had collided with lying on the floor in a tangled heap. He managed to raise his head, "Ow…" he mumbled. "What the heck?"

"S- sorry!" Amelia sputtered as she leaned over, helping him to his feet. "I'm so sorry! It was clumsy of me – I - !"

She cut off as he turned to gaze curiously as her – and Amelia's eyes widened slightly. It was the boy Natasha had been treating the other day – Ross… wasn't it?

Whatever it was, the lad's eyes narrowed and suddenly he was grasping a hatchet in his hand. "You…!" He snapped. "A Grado soldier? Are you trying to ambush us?"

_G – Grado…_ Amelia glanced down at herself. After her last battle, her breastplate had been rendered useless and so, with great reluctance, she had discarded it, with the intentions of getting a new plate at their port of destination.

And so currently she was clad in a maroon leather tunic – part of the set that had been given to her back in the Grado barracks. And, chagrined, she realized that it clearly bore the emblem of Grado on the left side of the chest."

"Well?" Ross demanded, snapping her back to reality. "I'm the son of the warrior Garcia, Ross! Prepare yourself!"

"Ah – wait!" She blurted out, stepping back and raising her arms to ward off any impending blows. "I – I'm not from Grado! I mean – yes, I am from Grado, but I'm not part of their army!"

"Ha! You can't trick me!" Ross bellowed and he stepped forward, bring the hatchet downwards.

With a tiny cry of fright, Amelia dodged the blow, mind whirling. She didn't want to fight him – he was an ally, even if he didn't know it yet. "S-stop! I didn't attack you! I just tripped and fell over! It – it was an accident!"

Ross paused, axe still raised in the air. "An… accident?" He said suspiciously.

"Yes! Look – there's a loose plank over there and-"

"Huh?" Ross twisted around. "Oh, that. You tripped on _that_? I can barely even see the part where it's raised." He turned back to face Amelia and grinned. "Then again, you're pretty small. Maybe someone like you _could_ trip on that, huh!" He finished before laughing heartily.

_Hey, you're not that much bigger than me!_ Amelia thought. Still, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Th – thanks for believing me." She said softly.

"Hey, no point in beating up people on your side," Ross flashed a grin and stuck out his open hand. "Let's be friends, okay?"

"O-okay…" She smiled. "My name's Amelia."

"And I'm Ross!"

_I knew that already, but thanks anyway._ She started to speak but remained silent. Before either of them could do anything else, however, there was the sound of someone rounding the corridor, and a gloved hand fell on Ross's shoulder.

"Ah, Amelia." Ephraim smiled at her. "Getting to know your shipmates, are you? Good for you. However…" His grip on Ross's shoulder tightened. "I've some… matters to discuss with this young man here, so as you were."

Knowing enough not to question the prince, Amelia merely nodded, bid farewell to Ross (who was turning rather pale), and headed off.

Once alone, she paused and sighed. A large part of her wanted to go and find Franz and to see how he was doing, considering she hadn't had much chance to meet him ever since they had boarded the ship. But another part of her wondered if _he_ wanted to see her, or if he was annoyed by her presence.

She hesitated and sighed to herself.

"Well, I obviously won't be able to tell if I don't even see him." She sighed to herself.

_Right. I'll go up and talk to him – if I see any hints that he doesn't want me around, I'll just end the conversation quickly._ With this plan in mind, she headed for the stairs to the main deck – she knew Franz spent most of his time up there.

* * *

"And I must say that my estimation of Renais has improved quite a bit!"

"Really?" Franz replied, trying his best to sound interested and not deathly seasick like he currently was.

Gilliam nodded. "Those exercises you prescribed to me are wonderful! I do them nightly before I go to bed, and I feel fantastic the day the after!"

_Exercises…?_ Franz frowned. Oh, yes. He remembered telling Gilliam something of that sort a while ago… "I'm glad they've been of aid to you, Sir Gilliam." He replied softly.

"You don't _sound_ very glad." Franz didn't detect much of a sense of ire in the veteran knight's voice, but he found it necessary to reply anyway.

"Well, I am." Franz straightened up from his position to look Gilliam in the eye. "Renais is a small country – but there is much that is good about it. I'm always glad when someone recognizes the finer qualities of my homeland."

Gilliam let out a short bark that might have been a laugh. "Well then, keep your chin up, Sir Franz, Knight of Renais! I may not know Renais as a country, but if it can breed such fine knights as yourself, then it can't be very bad at all! Be proud of your home!"

"Thank you, Sir Gilliam. I appreciate it very much." Franz nodded politely. And the truth was, he _did_ – or at least he would have if he had felt marginally better. The poor weather wasn't doing much for his mood, and neither was his tortured stomach.

Sensing that the young knight wasn't in the mood for prolonged conversation, Sir Gilliam bid farewell to Franz and moved away – quickly swallowed by the thickening fog.

It was getting ridiculous, Franz decided. He couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction, and the dampness was becoming more and more uncomfortable. Shaking his head, he decided to return to his hammock – the sleeping quarters were the living definition of the words 'cramped', 'stuffy', 'airless' and probably a few more, but at least he could lie down for a while – and he was lucky, he'd be able to get some sleep, which had the added bonus of making the entire journey seem shorter.

He had taken two steps in the direction of the stairs when Amelia quite literally popped up in front of him – the fog had been so thick that if he had been paying any less attention he might have crashed into her.

"Oh, Amelia!" Despite him feeling like yesterday's leftovers, he found a smile from somewhere to put on his face. "Aren't you training under Sir Garcia?"

"I'm off for now." She grinned. "Whatcha up to?"

"No, nothing much." Franz blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "I was just… just thinking about going back below decks."

"Oh?" Amelia's expression was odd – Franz couldn't quite place it, but it gave him a feeling of unease. "What's the matter?"

He was about to confess to Amelia that he was terribly, terribly seasick, and that right now what he wanted more than anything else was to collapse onto his hammock and not move an inch until they had reached Taizel, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, he paused. It seemed… well, it seemed a bit silly to be burdening Amelia like that, after all. Prince Ephraim had wanted him to be a pillar of strength for her sake, hadn't he?

Compounding all that was that he… well, he didn't want to act like he was weak. Not in front of Amelia.

So he shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

That he was hiding _something_ was obvious, but for the life of her Amelia couldn't peg what it was. She half suspected that it _was_ true about him being tired of her presence, but she so desperately wanted that to _not_ be true that she wasn't sure what to do.

_Am I just imagining things?_ She bit her lip, trying to sort out her thoughts and realizing that the longer she stood there silent, the bigger an idiot she appeared to be.

Argh, why couldn't it be as simple as the way she had planned it out earlier? It _was_ a good plan, except for one crucial flaw – she had promised herself to end the talk quickly if she caught any hints of him not wanting her around, but she was in the unhappy circumstance of not being able to tell _what_ exactly was a hint and what wasn't.

Unhappily, she had to acknowledge the fact that although she had been spending a lot of time with Franz, and indeed, looked up to him a whole lot, she didn't really know much about him.

"Is there anything wrong?" His gentle voice intruded on her thoughts, and she refocused on him.

"N – nah." She shook her head.

He nodded, "In that case, would you excuse me for a while?" Before she could even begin to formulate a reply, he stepped past her, vanishing into the thick fog.

Amelia stood there for several long moments, slightly dumbstruck. Someone it had never occurred to her that Franz would be the one to take it upon himself to end the conversation fast.

She glanced up around at the fog – she'd heard some of the more sailing-versed members of the army call it a 'pea-souper' and although she wasn't sure of the exact meaning, she felt she caught the general gist of it.

_About as gloomy as I feel right now, then._ Amelia thought to herself with a sigh. Hugging herself to keep off some of the chill, Amelia milled about slightly through the darkness, unsure about what to do.

"Amelia!" A cheery shout caused her to look around, and an instant later Neimi stepped out of the fog, waving cheerily at her friend.

"Neimi!" Whatever rut that her relationship with Franz may have driven itself into, at least she had one other friend in the army. "How on earth could you find me in a fog like this? I can barely see where I'm going!"

"Oh? Hehe…" Neimi grinned. "I guess I was always trained to have better eyesight than most. You need it to be a good archer, you know." She shook her head. "But enough about me, Amelia. You seem kinda down. Anything the matter?"

Amelia winced. She still didn't feel comfortable enough with _anyone_ (well… maybe Franz. Maybe.) discussing personal matters, so she shook her head. "Just… tired."

"Well, I guess that's not a big surprise, considering how much training you're going through."

"Well, what about you? You have to practice your aiming, right?"

"Yeah – but it's kinda difficult to do that on a ship like this because you can't practice properly below the deck – and if you're up here you can waste a lot of arrows by accidentally shooting them into the sea. And of course, if the ship rocks too much or something, you'll get thrown off balance." Neimi smiled. "So I decided to train my eyes instead."

"Train your eyes? You mean you can do that?"

"Sure! You just have to-"

A rumble distracted the both of them, and just as they were about to go to look out for the source of noise the ship shuddered with enough force that both girls were thrown to the ground.

Quickly picking herself up, Amelia glanced around nervously.

"W- what's going on?" Neimi murmured as she stood. "Did we hit something."

All around her Amelia could hear confused mutterings from the rest of the crew. _They're as confused as we are. Never a good sign._ Amelia thought unhappily. Out loud, she said, "I think we should try to hook up with others – with the fog as thick as it is, it's not safe being out here all on our own."

Forsaking a verbal reply, Neimi nodded, and the two of them began backing up, Amelia wishing desperately that she had thought to bring her lance up with her.

They had taken all of six steps when a scream echoed through the misty darkness.

* * *

As Franz rubbed the spot on his head where he had bumped himself, he reflected that, all in all, it wasn't turning out to be a good day.

While he hadn't wanted to blow Amelia off so abruptly like that, he had been feeling too bad at that time to pay much attention to something like that – if necessary, he could always make it up to her later.

And so he had stumbled through the hallways of the ship until he reached the shared cabin where no less than a dozen of his fellow soldiers were quartered. Thankfully the majority of them were on his duty, so he had the room to himself.

He had just clambered onto his hammock and allowed his body to relax when the ship had pitched violently to one side, with the sum effect of the unfortunate knight being thrown out of his hammock and bashing his head against the doorframe of the room.

Grumbling to himself, Franz had just pulled himself to his feet when Kyle appeared in the doorway. "Ah, there you are. Get yourself suited up and get to the deck quickly."

"What's the matter?" Franz mumbled as he stumbled to where his armour had been packed, quickly getting them into place.

Kyle shrugged. "All I know is we're under an attack of some kind – from who or what, I can't really say. Don't dawdle." And then he was gone, presumably to find and warn the others.

A few precious minutes later, Franz finished buckling on the last of his armour pieces and, grabbing his sword, he set out for the deck.

Legs pumping, he dashed through the darkened corridors, heading for-

_Hold it._ He pulled to a halt just outside one of the doors to a cabin – the one he knew was shared by Amelia and some of the other girls in the army. The earlier collision had knocked the door ajar, and Franz peered into the room, seeing a single gleaming lance resting against the rack.

_Amelia!_ She had been on the deck when he had last left her – and the lance being here meant she had no weapon… In a single motion he ducked into the room, yanked the weapon from its place in the rack.

_Amelia… please be safe._ That singular thought foremost in his mind, Franz resumed his frantic dash for the deck.

* * *

Chapter End

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Thank you for reading. Please review. 


	22. Storm

No Longer Alone

* * *

Once again, battle-heavy update. Hope you all enjoy it.

Also, unless I've done my sums wrong, this is now my longest story in terms of of the number of words.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The fog hadn't cleared up any, and upon reaching the deck Franz was forced to glance uselessly around for several precious seconds. While sight of anything beyond an arm's length was bereft him, the sound of confused combat still reached his ears.

He hesitated, torn between wanting to call out to Amelia as loud as he could, and the unhappy realization that doing so would simply make him a target for whatever unknown assailants were coming after them. Nor could he assume that they were similarly vision-impaired as he was.

With a sigh, he stumbled forward, feeling the ship give another shuddering lurch. The urgency of the current task at hand was not lost on him, but neither was his annoyance at having to fight in the middle of a rolling ship.

Abruptly, a dark shape flickered in the mist ahead of him, and instantly, Franz brought his sword up into a ready position.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

There were the sounds of a scuffle, a cry of surprise and something heavy fell at his feet. A soldier wearing the armour of Frelia, a long gash in its throat.

The next instant, a skeleton burst out of the fog, hollow eyes staring straight at Franz as it raised a rusted sword, preparing to strike.

"You-!" Franz was unable to prevent a cry of surprise as the skeleton leapt forward. Bring his sword up, he was able to prevent the monstrosity from stabbing him through the heart. Reversing his parry into a diagonal slash, he was able to sever the skull from the rest of the body, leaving the bones to collapse noisily into a jumbled pile.

Franz paused a moment, trying to catch his breath. Were these the same type of monsters that had assaulted them in the Za'Ha woods? It seemed likely, if nothing else.

Swallowing, he tightened the grip on his sword a ventured further into the gloom.

He had to find Amelia – and fast.

* * *

"What _are_ these things?" Amelia whispered nervously as she backed up behind Neimi.

Her friend looked equally nervous, but resolute nonetheless, and she was firing arrows at the shambling monstrosities as quickly as she could. "I'm not sure," she panted as she drew another arrow. "I'm "

Those words had barely left Neimi's lips when the nearest zombie-creature lunged forward, rotting claws ready to tear into the soft flesh of the two girls.

Neimi loosed her arrow at that same instant, piercing the creature's eye. As it staggered back, stunned, Amelia drew her dagger and stepping forward, she quickly plunged it into the creature's neck. It gave a choked gasp and fell.

As she quickly stepped backwards again, Amelia reflected unhappily on her current weapon's rather troubling lack of range – a lance would have been so much more welcome at this point.

"Nemi, can you see anyone else?"

"No, not really. Some shapes here and there, but they could easily be more enemies. I hope-" She was cut off from replying by another of the creatures lurching forward.

Working in their favour was the fact that the zombies or whatever didn't appear to have the sufficient mental capacity for planning concerted assaults or whatever. In Amelia's estimation, that had been the chief factor for the two girl's continued survival. Still, the situation was precarious enough as is.

Abruptly, the odds for the situation shifted abruptly, as a trio of Frelian knights charged from the gloom, dark blood staining their armour. In seeing a far more nakedly aggressive threat, the zombies reacted instinctively, bringing up claws and stretching open jaws to face off against the knights. Neimi brought up her bow up, ready to lend support, whereas Amelia, perceiving the immediate threat to have lessened, relaxed somewhat.

That was, naturally, a mistake. Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, she instinctively brought her dagger up to a defensive position – and was met with the harsh sound of metal on metal. The force behind the blow was sufficient that she was knocked backwards, landing painfully on her rear end.

She heard Neimi's startled cries, but that was secondary to the skeletal creature that loomed before her. Check that – it wasn't a skeletal creature; it _was_ a skeleton. The bone warrior stumbled forward noisily (how could she possibly have missed the clanking noise of its bones?) and Amelia hurriedly rolled over, fighting to get back to her feet before the creature could strike again.

She was therefore stunned by the sight of Neimi firing an arrow that slammed into the skeleton's skull, impacting it hard enough that cracks weblined their way across the grey bone. The creature halted its advance, turning towards Neimi with deadly intent.

"N- Neimi!" Amelia blurted out, finally struggling to her feet. The archer had already reached back to draw another arrow, but one of the zombies from the pack behind her had come forward, sharp claws raking at her unprotected back. With a cry of pain and surprise, Neimi jerked away – just as the ship lurched once more, sending the pink-haired girl to the floor.

Before she could make a move to help her fallen friend, another skeleton warrior appeared from behind the first one. This one had already been through some rough fights – the lance it carried was coated in blood, and half of its skull had already been knocked in, revealing a gaping hole where its left eye socket should have been. Nevertheless, its vision didn't seem hindered in the least, as it moved quickly to intercept Amelia while its partner dealt with Neimi.

_Too many of them,_ she thought desperately as she prepared herself for a fight she knew she could not win. _Just too many…_

"Amelia! Down!"

She barely had time to register the words that had been said before she dropped herself into a crouch. An instant later, a silver missile zipped through the mist filled air, slamming into the lance-wielding skeleton and forcing it back.

_Wait… my lance? What…_

Glancing behind her, Amelia nearly collapsed with relief. "Franz!"

The young knight had somehow appeared out of the gloom, sword at the ready. He spared a concerned glance for Amelia, but the two skeleton's took first priority. He started forward, taking advantage of the creature's uncertainty to seize the initiative in combat. Meanwhile, Amelia fumbled for her lance and followed behind him, uncertain how she could help, but determined that she wouldn't be mere deadweight.

As the lance-wielding skeleton stabbed forward with its spear, Franz twisted at the last possible moment and brought his sword down, slashing off the creature's right hand.

Dashing past Franz, Amelia saw Neimi, cornered by the skeleton and the zombie, and charged.

Her lance pierced deep into the zombie's back, and halted its slow advance on Neimi, but other than that, none of the results were exactly what she desired. The creature paused, and then swung around, its clawed arms slashing wildly at the young lancer that had been behind it. Amelia barely had the time to pull her lance out and duck backwards before the claws reached her.

Trying to catch her breath, Amelia quickly sourced about for some sort of plan or idea. As far as she could tell, aside from tearing a gaping hole in the creature's midsection, she had accomplished nothing of note by stabbing the creature.

_Maybe if I aimed at the head._ That thought in mind, Amelia paused to gauge the length between her and her opponent. _Okay, keep it together, Amelia. This'll be just like training – the zombie's only slightly more mobile than the training dummy, after all…_ This cheering thought in mind, Amelia lunged.

Her aim had been the slightest bit off – instead of piercing the dead centre of the creature's forehead, the silvery tip of her weapon smashed through the zombie's eye. The reaction was instantaneous – the creature ground to a dead stop. Not wishing to take any chances, Amelia yanked her lance from the creature and kicked at it, sending it sprawling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Franz finishing off his own opponent, and Neimi had managed to put her skeleton down for good.

As she leaned wearily on her lance, Franz jogged over, concern apparent in his eyes. "Amelia… you okay?"

She managed a weary smile. "I'm fine. Not a scratch."

Franz let out a sigh of relief. "I was so worried – I thought I could wander this stupid deck forever and I'd never catch sight of you."

"Yeah, uh – Neimi?" Amelia turned to the archer. "How's your back?" She questioned worriedly as she pulled a vulnerary from her pack. The archer gave a pained chuckle.

"I'll live." She said softly as she splashed some of the curative mixture on her back.

Very suddenly, she became aware that the three of them were the only ones in the vicinity that were still moving. The Frelian soldiers had vanished deeper into the fog – apparently they had succeeded in removing the rest of the zombies.

Hugging her unconsciously, she shook her head. "We should go. Find some of the others – group together."

Franz nodded. "Well, which direction? Your guess is as good as mine."

Amelia paused. "Well, the zombies-"

"Revenants."

"Huh?" She turned to look at Franz.

"Technically, they're revenants. Zombies are usually known as 'reanimated corpses', but in reality they refer to soulless beings without free will. So it's more accurate to-" He paused, a frown on his face, which rather matched the odd look Amelia was giving him. "Never mind. You were saying."

"Uh, right. Anyway, the zombies came from that direction, so it'd probably make sense for us to go in the opposite direction. We might find some other soldiers along the way."

"Got it." The three of them set off. Neimi, with the sharpest eyes of the trio, kept her bow notched and a steady watch at the surroundings while Franz walked beside Amelia.

"Amelia?"

"Hm?"

"The next time I start behaving like that again, please knock me on the head. Nothing too hard, just a sharp tap. Okay?"

"Can do."

* * *

"Wait." Franz held up an arm as Amelia came to a stop slightly behind, holding her lance ready.

"What is it?"

"I'm… not sure." Franz paused and glanced around the area. "I could've sworn I heard something…"

"Maybe it's the others?" Neimi said hopefully.

"I don't think so." Franz replied tersely.

The three of them glanced around, muscles taut, ready to leap into action at whatever unseen menace might burst out from the fog.

A second later, Colm appeared, fog swirling around the navy-blue cloak he always wore. He gave a sigh of exasperation upon catching sight of the trio.

"_There_ you are, Neimi!" He exclaimed. "Where you've been? You should know better than to go off wandering in this kind of fog and end up having to rely on guys like Franz for protection!" Blowing out a long sigh, he continued. "Do you know how worried I got when I realized we were under attack and you'd gone off and vanished somewhere? You're always behaving like that, you know? And especially since I can't-"

Franz stood there silently, watching Colm's verbal tirade. Neimi appeared to be physically wilting under the steady stream of harsh words, and Franz suspected that she'd be breaking out into tears soon. He sighed.

The attack came so suddenly, and from all directions, that all involved had only the barest moment to react. A crude, but sharpened spear lanced down from the sky straight at the young knight, and at the same instant, dark shapes appeared at the edges of his vision. Instinctively, Franz threw himself into a forward roll, evading the spear by a hair.

Using the momentum of the roll to boost himself back to his feet, he glanced around quickly, trying to access their situation. Amelia, bleeding from a long cut on her arm was facing off against a strange creature with a thick, muscular body and large, bat-like wings. The grin on its horned visage showed that he obviously believed the young lancer to be easy prey.

Neimi and Colm were preparing to go to Amelia's aid when a blast of dark magic forced them to deal with the more immediate threat of a pair of Mogalls emerging from gloom.

Franz uttered a silent curse, and began running towards Amelia.

He had just taken all of two steps before something slammed hard into his back forcing him to the floor. In the instant between impact and his recovering enough to try to pull himself back to his feet, he felt sharp claws digging into his back. Twisting his neck frantically, he was barely able to catch a glimpse of another one of the bat-like creatures crouching on his back, yellow eyes blazing with malice.

_Stupid…_ He thought to himself. _Shouldn't have assumed they'd be landlocked… should have anticipated an aerial assault._

Still, there was no time for bemoaning his problems. More important issues were at hand. Exerting every last drop of strength that his body possessed, he jerked to the right. The strength was enough – just barely enough – to send him into a roll, which resulted into the bat-creature being slammed into the wooden deck, and jarring it enough that its clawed grip on Franz's back was loosened.

Clambering to his feet, Franz darted forward as the creature flapped its wings, trying to gain some altitude. A quick stab with the sword put an end to that, and the beast collapsed to the ground, bleeding out the last of its life.

"Ah!" Amelia's shrill cry of pain caused Franz to jerk up. She'd apparently held her own against the bat creature, well enough that it now sported several shallow wounds along its body, but she'd been too focused on it, to the point where yet another of the creatures had managed to dive down from behind. Pure luck had saved her life, for, anticipating the actions of the creature in front, she'd dodged to the right at the last moment, letting the one behind her score a blow on the side of her calf instead of her shoulder.

The ambusher raised its weapon again for a second strike, only to receive an arrow to the eye as Neimi managed to break away from her own fight long enough to help out her friend. Making use of that distraction, Franz quickly interspersed himself between Amelia and the original bat-creature, fending off its blow, trying to buy Amelia enough time to tend to her own wounds and recover.

Abruptly, the creature changed tacks, sweeping one of its wings forward in an attempt to clobber the young knight from the side. This might have worked well on most foes, except that Franz had been on the receiving end of precisely the same kind of attack before, only it had been a wyvern, and he was thus half-expecting an attack in such a manner anyway.

Bring his blade up, he slashed clean through the wing of the bat-creature, earning a screech of agony and a severed, leathery wing fluttering to the ground. Furthermore, in such a distracted state, it was a relatively simple matter to slay the beast.

Franz paused for a moment and closed his eyes, fighting to catch his breath and steady his heartbeat. Amelia, meanwhile walked up to him.

"Franz! Your back – there're some claw marks and scratches…"

"I know. Nothing bad, they can be looked at later."

Colm hurried over, wiping his dagger clean of the monster's blood. "You guys did okay for yourselves?"

"More or less." Franz sighed. "You know where the others are?"

"Well, there's a pretty big group about thataway. Sir Garcia's with 'em, and I originally left there to go find Neimi."

"Well, seems as good a plan as we're going to get." Franz nodded. "Lead the way, Colm."

"GrrrrrrrRRRRRAAAAA**AAAAAAAGH**!" An inhuman roar pierced the murkiness, and Franz caught sight of a dark shape hurtling towards them at an incredible speed. _Another one? How many…_

Colm had apparently seen it too, for he threw himself to the side as fast as he could. An instant later, yet another of the bat creatures thudded to the deck, furling up its wings and bellowing a hoarse scream of challenge.

_No,_ Franz corrected himself. _Not just yet another one._ This creature bore large similarities to the ones they had already defeated, but while the earlier ones had had mottled grey skin, this new one had flesh the colour of dark venom. The casual ease with which it gripped its weapon, and the deliberate pace of its approach belied a far greater intelligence than its other counterparts. This obviously wasn't going to be an easy battle.

As the creature charged, Franz brought his sword up to parry – and in an instant realized that he had far underestimated the strength of the creature. The force of the blow was inhuman. Staggering back, he barely had time to bring his weapon up again to block the next blow – and the next – and the next.

There was no opening, no chance with which to mount a counterattack. Sooner or later, he'd let an attack slip through, and…

With grim resignation, Franz continued to defend himself.

* * *

Amelia had difficulty remembering a time when she was panicked as she was right now. Franz was clearly outmatched by the creature, and although Colm was running to his aid as fast as he could, he was still in grave danger.

Moving forward, she groaned to herself as pain shot up her leg. The vulnerary had repaired the worst of the damage from the lance-strike she'd received earlier, but the nerves still screamed whenever she put any pressure on it. She was useless like this. No, _worse_ than useless. She was a liability, and others would be put in danger if they expended the effort to protect her.

No.

Not like this. She grit her teeth. A soldier… she was a soldier. She had to fight.

_Twang._

An arrow from Neimi embedded itself in the creature's back, earning a cry of annoyance. Barely pausing its furious assault on the knight, the bat-thing scooped a piece of loose debris that had been knocked around by the fighting, and hurled it directly at the archer.

It impacted solidly with Neimi's stomach. The pink-haired girl staggered backwards, doubling over, fighting to catch her breath.

And then Colm was on the creature, slashing and stabbing wildly with his knives, forcing the creature to break off his relentless attacks on Franz. Quickly the creature settled into a defensive pose, backing off slightly and using the longer reach of his weapon to stay out of Franz's and Colm's attacking range.

As Colm reached in, trying to score a blow on the creature, it grabbed on to the rogue's arms. He had time to open his mouth but not to utter the cry of surprise before the creature _threw_ him into the air with casual ease, letting him crash onto the ground a good three feet away.

Now, once again, only Franz was left to defend himself against the creature's assaults, Amelia observed despairingly as she made her way to him as fast as her tortured leg would allow.

Suddenly Franz jumped back from another strike from the creature and then boosted himself forward, trying to get too close to the beast for its lance to be used effectively. The creature instinctively moved back as well, and both their weapons were brought to bear at the same instant.

The creature staggered back away, clutching a bleeding shoulder. Franz, meanwhile, sank to the ground, a deep gash on his thigh.

"H- Hey! YOU!" Amelia shouted, frantically trying something, anything, to buy Franz some time. The creature paused, and turned to glare at her. Trembling, she brought her lance up. "I'm still here!" She shouted. "Come on and face me!"

The creature obliged. Unfurling its wings, it leapt at her, covering the distance between them in little more than a second.

Amelia shifted into a defensive stance – and her eyes widened in shock and pain as even more pressure was applied onto her wounded leg. Unable to bear it any longer, her leg finally gave way, and she collapsed into a kneeling position.

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for the creature was clearly not expecting its swing to meet _no_ resistance. Its momentum carried it forward, until it was almost directly above Amelia.

Almost without thinking, Amelia aimed her lance upwards, stabbing deep into the creature's chest. An inhuman shriek sounded from the creature as it writhed frantically, trying to dislodge the deadly weapon.

Hardly daring to hope, Amelia kept trying to force the lance deeper into the being's body, trying to pierce its chest, its lungs, its heart –

A clawed hand closed around her throat and began to squeeze. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The creature glared at her as she thrashed frantically, so abruptly turned from the slayer to the one about to be slain.

_No… no! Have to…_ Frantically, she tore at the claws at her neck. She might as well have tried to bend a bar of solid iron. Through blurred vision, she saw the creature bring its other arm up, ready to smash it down with all the force it could muster onto her head.

Then the creature's head fell off, accompanied by a spray of black blood, much of which found its way onto Amelia.

As the limp corpse of the bat-monster collapsed to the ground, the battered form of Franz came into view, one hand clutched around a bloody sword.

"You okay?"

Amelia could only nod.

Franz seemed to want to take a step forward, towards her, but then his legs gave out from beneath him, and he fell to the ground, his sword clattering away beneath him.

Amelia wanted to stand up, to go to his aid, but suddenly her vision swam and blurred into thick, indistinguishable lines. She lay back on the hard wood of the deck, realizing just how completely and utterly drained she was.

"Over here! I've found some of them!"

She heard words, but they came at her from a great distance, and she couldn't distinguish any of it clearly. Her eyes closed, and with that came rest.

* * *

**Chapter End**

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Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	23. Mist

No Longer Alone

* * *

To all who follow my story:

This will be the last update for a while. I'm going of to National Service, and will thus not have access to a computer for a period of anywhere from two to seven weeks. I hope you guys remember this story and come back to it when it's continued – and rest assured, it will be.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The first thing Amelia became aware of was the noise. It was blurred and indistinct, but still recognizable as speech.

The second she became aware of was the fact that she was laying on something soft. That, while rather nice, wasn't terribly exciting, and so she returned her attention to the speech.

"… a miracle that they survived at all."

"Yeah. It's a good thing we found them before any of the other monsters did."

"We'd have spent a whole lot more looking for 'em if that archer girl hadn't come along and led us to them. Couldn't believe my eyes when I stumbled on the sight."

The third to fiftieth thing she became aware of was that everything hurt. _Everything._ She ached in places she hadn't known she had, let alone that they were capable of aching.

"Unh…" She groaned softly, attempting to shift her position slightly. That, naturally, led to even more pain.

"Ah, she's awake." The voice was familiar to her. Lord Ephraim's.

Gritting her teeth and doing her best to ignore the pain, she pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing as strained muscles delivered screaming messages of protest. After having managed to do so, she opened her eyes to the turquoise-haired lord staring down at her.

"You feel all right?"

"No, not really." She said. She'd have shook her head in an attempt to emphasize the statement, but her neck hurt too.

"Not surprising, considering what you four went through." Ephraim nodded. "Excellent work, recruit, even if I do say so myself."

"Nnh…" She shook her head, ignoring the pain this time. "Not me. It was…" She paused as a new thought wormed its way into her mind. "Franz! Where is he? Is he-?"

At that, Ephraim quirked a smile and gestured to the bed beside hers. Amelia glanced over and saw Sister Natasha kneeling over the prone form of the cavalier. She winced. Had he always looked so… beaten up, so frail?

"I'd be hard pressed to say whether he or Colm got the worst of it. Based on what Neimi said that Deathgoyle literally threw him around – couldn't have been pleasant."

"D – Deathgoyle?"

"Ah, right. It's basically the stronger form of the Gargoyles. And yes, I know what you're thinking. The name _is_ stupid, but it works, and that's really all I care about."

"O – okay…"

Ephraim sighed. "Look, both you and Franz are going to be fine, so get some rest. You two – you _four_ – did great out there all on your own, and I understand that we're looking into giving you a commendation. So that's something for you to look forward to. Right now though, you look like death warmed over, so like I said, get some rest."

Amelia didn't particular feel like arguing with the Prince over this point – making the transition into a state of unconsciousness seemed a very inviting prospect at that point and so she sank back onto the pillow, letting slumber claim her once again.

* * *

Franz glanced over at the bed beside him, where Amelia was sleeping peacefully, her expression serene.

"You all went through a lot," Natasha said softly as she continued to look to the wounds he'd accumulated. "No surprise that you're exhausted."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could still see the scene fresh in his mind – Amelia, writhing in the grasp of that monster, eyes wide with fear.

_If I had been just a few seconds slower…_ A shudder coursed through his body as a thought he was unwilling to contemplate made its way into his mind.

"I wonder why the monsters attacked us," he said, trying to change the subject. "We're just… one ship out in an entire ocean. Sure, we're part of the convoy, but the sea's a big place."

A worried expression creased Natasha's face. "From what I heard, the ship that attacked us has been seen roaming the waters for a while now. Most of the time they preyed on unsuspecting fishing boats or transports. This is probably the first time they faced off against a well-armed contingent of soldiers." The healer sighed. "I'm just glad that we managed to end their threat once and for all."

"No…" Franz sighed. "Not once and for all. Didn't you get the reports, Natasha? More of these monsters have been seen all over the country – they even say they've overrun the Tower of Valni. The Tower! That's where a Sacred Stone used to be housed! And now… it's a pit of darkness."

At the mention of the Sacred Stone, Natasha's face fell. She paused. "Franz…"

"Yes?"

"Do you… do you maybe think…" Natasha swallowed. "Do you think the Emperor could be behind these monsters appearing?"

Almost as soon as the thought came up, Franz was prepared to dismiss it. No. It was ridiculous. Emperor Vigarde might have started a war, but there was no way he could have the desire – let alone the ability – to call forth the demons of history. Why, they had nearly overrun all of humanity before – if it hadn't been for the Sacred Stones –

The Sacred Stones. Franz felt a strange coldness in his gut as he saw the path of Natasha's logic. The Emperor was waging a war to destroy the Sacred Stones – supposedly their first and last line of defense against the Darkness. He wouldn't do that unless…

He glanced at Natasha. "I… I don't know, Natasha. I honestly don't."

* * *

Several hours later, a much more rested and refreshed Amelia strolled atop the deck, staring out at the ocean. The fog had largely cleared up, and the waves shone brilliant blue under the sun's rays.

She was abruptly distracted by the sound of a commotion, and she turned to see Prince Ephraim dragging along a Ross who looked like he wanted to struggle away, only he was too scared to actually do so.

"Now, Ross," Ephraim spoke in a rather conversation tone, largely in contrast to the apparently iron grip he had on the boy's arm. "Where were we before were interrupted by the slavering hordes of darkness and despair? I'm not sure what gripe you have with my knights – all upright characters, by the way – that you would feed them a lie about me wishing to hold a conference with them? You're a bright lad, and Sir Garcia's son, no less. You know the consequences of toying with your monarch can be rather dire?"

"I know, all right?" Ross said unhappily. "It was – Franz said I was going to have a training session, and they're always so _hard_, so I thought that maybe I could get him out of the way and I'd be alone for a while-"

"And did you manage to get out of the training session?" Ephraim said with a raised eyebrow that suggested he already knew the answer.

"No," Ross muttered grumpily. "Turns out Franz was just talking about my dad setting up a practice session."

"Well, let that be a lesson to you." Amelia couldn't be sure, but she thought Ephraim wanted to smile.

"I know." The young axefighter mumbled.

"Good. I've already passed this matter on to your father – I'm sure he'll do a _far_ better job of disciplining you than I ever could, so be on your way." Ephraim said to the now-noticeably paler Ross, before walking away.

Briefly, Amelia considered going over to comfort Ross, but he had turned and reentered the interior of the ship before she could reach him. She sighed and shifted her weight as the ship dipped slightly, letting out a wince of discomfort as an ache shot through her wounded leg.

"Amelia?"

The soft, gentle voice broke her train of thought and she looked to her side to see Franz standing there, hands at his sides.

"Oh, Franz!" She smiled at him. "Feel better?"

"As well as I could be, I suppose." He smiled, raising and lowering a shoulder experimentally. Then his smile faded. "What about your leg, Amelia?"

She shrugged. "Still hurts a little when I put weight on it, but it's fine, really."

He paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better."

She frowned. "Franz, what are you talking about? You saved my life from that Deathgoyle thing!"

"Sure, after you saved mine first." He replied.

She paused. Was there a problem with that? She couldn't tell, but he looked rather… distraught, for some reason.

"Well, if you want," She said carefully, trying to defuse a situation she for some reason felt could escalate to unwanted proportions. "Just consider your saving my life repayment for my savings yours. That makes us even, doesn't it?"

The shadow of discomfort didn't entirely leave Franz's face, but he nonetheless nodded. "Okay. I guess I can live with that."

She winked playfully. "We're rivals, after all. Wouldn't be much good if we couldn't keep one-upping each other, would it?"

This time he did chuckle a bit. "I guess you're right."

"Speaking of which…" She paused. "Franz, I'd like to… y'know, spar with you. Just once. See how good we are in relation to each other."

"Huh? But…" He paused. "Your leg…"

"I can use it fine." And it was true. She could. Aside from the tiny jolt that shot her leg every time she moved it, it didn't really impair her mobility in any significant way. "Besides, I'm sure you've not fully recovered yet either, right?"

That brought Franz up short. After a few seconds of hesitation, he nodded. "All right, Amelia. A duel it is."

* * *

The ship was as still as it was ever going to be. The two rivals and friends faced each other, lances clutched in their arms.

Amelia, as usual, was wielding the slim silver lance given to her by her adoptive father. Holding it such that it was pointing towards the ground in front of her, she mentally sifted through the various defensive and offensive maneuvers she could make.

Franz, by contrast, bore a thicker and heavier lance, which gave it more weight behind each attack, but meant that he would be slower and less nimble with it than Amelia. She noted that he seemed slightly uncomfortable with holding his lance in both hands, and remembered that Franz was used to fighting from horseback, from which only one arm would be available to fight with. It wasn't as much of an issue with swords, she supposed.

Franz made the first move, bringing his lance up in a sweeping strike intended to knock the lance out of Amelia's hand. The flow of battle during a sparring match was obviously different from an all-out battle. The objective here was to disable your opponent, but in such a way so that he or she would still be fit to fight on the frontlines the next time a real battle arose. Removing your opponent's weapon was usually an effective this way to pull this off.

Reacting to the move, Amelia stepped back, avoiding the wide-angled strike instead of attempting to parry it. She surmised that her strength would be better found in avoiding his attacks than in trying to counter them – he _was_ physically stronger than her, after all.

Sensing an opening, Amelia stepped forward, trying for a quick feint jab to throw him off guard. Franz anticipated this, though, and moved to intercept Amelia's weapon and force it to the ground.

His reaction was good, but the angle wasn't. Amelia was easily able to prevent him from blocking her advance, and by stepping quickly to left she could cover herself well from any of his other attempts.

Her lance darted forward, a silver blur in the brilliant sun, and Franz was obliged to keep moving back wards in order to prevent himself from being injured. Amelia suppressed a smile. If she was able to force an opening, she stood a shot at winning this quickly-

Abruptly Franz leaned to the side, barely letting her lance brush past his torso. His own spear was suddenly rising at her, way too close for comfort. Throwing herself backwards, Amelia was able to evade and continue, but with having forced the lancer backwards, Franz had removed her previous initiative and advantage.

_That's what I get for being careless, I guess._ Amelia thought to herself as the two of them circled once more, before moving in swiftly. The reach of lance dictated that getting _too_ close wasn't a good idea, since you couldn't strike your opponent well. However, the reach also meant that it was relatively easy to keep opponents at an arm's length – unless they surpassed you in agility, of course.

Once more taking advantage of Franz's heavier weapon, she was able to move in close enough to keep him constantly moving his lance to parry her more nimble strikes, wearing him down. If things kept up, he'd be tired out before she was, and let his guard down long enough for-

Suddenly she was on her back staring up at the sky and wondering what had just happened. A moment later the pain surged in her gut and let out a groan of discomfort.

"Oh, no…" Franz was kneeling at her side. "I'm sorry, Amelia – I didn't mean to hit you so hard. Are you okay?"

She lay silent for a few seconds, focusing on catching her breath, before nodding her head. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just… what did you do?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, you were really laying into me and I wasn't really used to using such a heavy weapon in such close-quarters range, so I… I… uh, there's no rule against using your fists, so…"

"You punched me?" She gazed at him with incredulity. "In the _stomach_?"

"Well, it was more of a knee-jerk reaction, you know? Hey, do you need me to find Natasha? I'm sure she'll-"

"No, no, it's no trouble." Amelia sighed as she got to her feet with Franz supporting her.

"I'm really sorry-"

"No, it's okay." Amelia smiled. "When a real fight comes, the enemy isn't going to worry about whether or not he's using his fists or weapons. I'll just have to get good enough to anticipate those attacks."

"Yeah, I guess…" Franz said, his face downcast. "It's just…" he trailed off.

"Yeah?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "Just what?"

Franz glanced away at her, but she could've sworn that she could catch the faint traces of a blush on his face. "I… uh, I don't like to hit girls. So it's kind of… well, embarassing…" He finally mumbled in a tiny voice.

Amelia was silent for a second before breaking out in a peal of merry laughter. "Sir Franz, gallant knight of Renais," she grinned as she reached over and tousled his hair. "Who said chivalry was dead?"

"Hey, cut it out." Franz said as he gently pushed her hand off his head, but there was no ire in his voice.

Amelia sighed. "Franz… don't worry about it, okay. I may be a girl, but I'm also a soldier. I can fight too."

"Yeah…" Franz gazed over at her with an approving look. "When I first met you back at Rigwald, you couldn't even hold your lance right. And look at you now."

"Heh… I've come a long way." Amelia grinned. "I've grown a lot stronger. This armour used to be too heavy for me to enough move properly in, but it's all right now!"

"Heh. I can see how your armour being too heavy could be a serious problem."

I'm just getting started, though. Watch me!" Amelia said with exuberance. "I'll keep on growing stronger…" _Until I won't be a liability for you on the battlefield, Franz. Not ever again._ The last part she kept to herself.

There was relative silence among the two of them for a while, as Amelia pondered. It was odd. Being here with Franz, just talking to him – or even not saying anything, simply enjoying his company – was just so… well, _inviting_. And as far as she could tell, right now Franz felt comfortable with her too.

_Then… why did I keep getting hints that maybe we'd been spending too much time together?_ Amelia pondered. _Heck, just before the fight started he brushed me off for no reason I could tell…_

"Hey, Franz!" Strolling across the deck to meet the both of them was Forde, his trademark smirk still on his face. "Heard you're getting a commendation from the Prince himself later! You took on the toughest enemy of the lot and came out of it in one piece. My little brother's all grown up and strong now. Why, pretty soon you'll be saving all of Magvel from the forces of Darkness all by yourself! My, my. Where did the years go?"

Franz rolled his eyes and turned away.

"Oh, by the way, has your seasickness improved any?"

"I'm fine now, thanks for asking." Franz retorted.

"Seasickness?" She gazed curiously at him.

"Yeah." He appeared hesitant for a moment, but then he shrugged. "It was really bad just now – couldn't take two steps without feeling like I wanted to hurl."

"Oh…" Amelia paused and her eyes widened as a thought struck her. "Franz… when we met on deck, before all the fighting started… were you seasick then?"

"…" He sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Oh… nothing. Nothing." _So THAT'S what it was! No wonder he was in such a hurry to get below – he probably wanted to lie down in his bunk._ Amelia let out a tiny sigh. It looked like she had been mistaken about all of this after all.

"Anyway, the reason I was sent here is because Prince Ephraim is requesting both of your presences. Let's go now. I don't think you want to keep the Prince waiting."

* * *

"Right. You know by now that I'm not really one for ceremony. You probably know that I think a 'good work' and a presentation of an appropriate reward really would suffice, but as it stands most of the people are impressed with what you did, so…" Ephraim cleared his throat.

"Lord Ephraim," Franz began. "I don't really… well, I don't really think I deserve anything for this. I mean, the creature targeted us, we fought to the best of our ability, and we managed to defeat it. It's… it's not really a big deal."

"Well, all of the people who'd know about this sort of thing – mages, mostly – tell me that defeating something like it _is_ a big deal. So… there you go." Ephraim shrugged. "Franz, this really isn't up for debate. You, Amelia, Neimi and Colm are getting commendations for bravery in a public ceremony. Just grin and bear it, okay?"

* * *

"And in recognition of their courage in the face of danger, I present to them tokens from the sovereignty of Renais, befitting of their valour." Ephraim continued.

Franz had steadily tuned out most of the proceedings. He suspected that he wasn't the only one who found most ceremonies extremely boring, regardless of whether or not he was receiving anything out of the deal. His training for being able to stand at attention for hours on end without moving paid off now, as he mostly allowed his mind to wander while Ephraim talked on.

Thankfully, the ceremony was brief, although Franz noted that Amelia seemed to be paying rapt attention to the whole thing. Well, it _was_ probably her first time seeing that sort of thing, so it would only be natural, he supposed…

At his cue, he stepped forward to receive his award – and his eyes widened as a Knight's Crest was placed in his hands. He hadn't expected to receive something _this_ valuable…

* * *

"So what does it do?" Amelia asked as she gazed at the Crest, covered in sigils that shined in the dim light of the ship's interior.

"Well, supposedly it's supposed to greatly boost your strength and your potential at the same time. They're actually pretty rare – but most countries keep a decent stock in their treasuries…" He sighed and carefully placed the Crest on the table. "To think that something so valuable would be placed in my hands…"

"Well, I'm sure you'll take good care of it – and you'll know to use it when the time is right."

He smiled at her. "Thanks for the encouragement, Amelia. What did you get?"

She chuckled and pulled out a ring from her pocket. "They call it an 'Energy Ring'. They say it'll make you stronger if you use it." Her expression grew wistful as she drew out a tiny pouch and deposited the ring inside. "It'll make a good companion for my Speedwing, I suppose."

"Wat. You have a Speedwing? Where'd you get it from?"

"Well, it was given to me by my staff-sergeant on the day that I set out from the capital – for Fort Rigwald. I always felt uncomfortable at the thought of actually using it – you know, all that magic suddenly entering my body. So… I just kept it," she shrugged. "With me, just in case there's ever a real need for that thing."

Franz paused. "Say… I wonder if any of the better fighters have used these things before. You know, Speedwings, Knight Crests… that sort of thing."

She frowned. "Well, I heard that it's standard procedure for someone made General to be presented with a Crest upon promotion. It's a universal tradition. So… I guess General Duessel definitely has one of these."

"Yeah… General Seth, too." Franz gazed back at the gleaming object, and thought about following in his mentor's footsteps, about one day growing as strong as the Silver Knight was.

The thought both thrilled and unnerved him at the same time. He resolved not to think anymore about it for the time being – it couldn't be _that_ close in the future, after all.

* * *

"I used to have a kit fox, you know."

"Oh, really?" Amelia glanced over at Neimi. "What was it like? Was it cute?"

"Oh, it was adorable!" Neimi grinned. "It's fur was really soft and fluffy, and whenever I went anywhere it'd try it's hardest to keep up with me on its little legs."

Amelia giggled at the mental image that appeared in her mind. "Oh… That reminds me. I used to have a songbird. It had feathers that were the most brilliant blue and yellow and orange. And whenever I felt lonely it would sing to me."

"That sounds lovely. So… where's it now?"

"It's gone. I let it go when I left Silva to join the Grado army. It wouldn't have been fair to it otherwise – I couldn't ask other people to look after it for me."

"Aw…" Neimi was silent for a moment. "You know, Amelia, when this war is over, we should get new pets."

"Yeah…" Amelia grinned. "And then we could have them visit each other!"

"Great idea! I'd really like that!"

"Yeah… me too."

The conversation over for now, the two of them stood staring out at the orange sea, seemingly lit ablaze by the fiery orb that was the sinking sun.

* * *

"All right, by now their scouts would have had ample time to warn the capital that we're making a sea-based advance, and that our route is set for Taizel." Ephraim said as he paced back and forth in front of the small group he had assembled. "I assume their commander is smart – the first line of defence will likely involve preventing us from making a landing in the first place. In that line, we can probably expect ballista, we'll certainly see Wyvern Knights and whatever mercenary Pegasi Knights they can hire… what else?"

Franz pursed his lips as he ran through the available options. Beside him, Kyle spoke up. "They'll probably attempt to blockade the docks."

"Couldn't they just send out ships to meet us?" Forde questioned, a frown on his face.

Franz sighed. "Forde, have you forgotten everything we've ever learnt of military history? Grado's navy has never been its strong point. If they send out ships to meet us odds are on them losing that battle, along with most of the people on their ships."

"Thanks for making my argument for me, Franz." Ephraim nodded. "So we won'y have to worry about a sea-based reprisal. Anything else?"

Duessel, who was for obvious reasons the most knowledgeable about Grado's potential defenses, nodded. "The forces stationed at Taizel fall under the Tiger-Eye's command. It's likely Caellach will be there himself to face us. He's… something of a glory-hound."

"Duly noted." Ephraim nodded. "This gives us a shot at one of Grado's generals – and the battle will be that much easier." He paused. "Still, I wish it were General Glen we were facing – or even Selena Fluorspar. They would be far easier to convince to lay down their arms."

"So, standard procedure upon arrival?" Forde questioned. "Send out a delegate requesting a peaceful surrender, and if it doesn't work, then no holds barred?"

"More or less." Ephraim cupped his head in his hands. "We're reach Taizel shortly after sunrise tomorrow if things don't go awry. That said, all of you get some rest. We'll need it."

As the group broke up and began going their separate ways, Franz gazed off into the horizon. The night sky made it difficult to see very far, but he knew that come next morn he would see land at the front.

They would be engaged in battle again. And once more he would fight… and he would protect her. No matter what.

He did not leave any other option open to himself.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	24. Knot

No Longer Alone

* * *

Eh. Quick update while I'm back on Chinese New Year break. Hope you enjoy it.

I'd also like to include a note that some of you might have noticed the absence of several characters showing up – such as L'Arachel and her lovable vassals. Yeah, I'm splitting up the character joinings between Ephraim and Eirika's route, for the sake of storyline. So without further ado, onwards with the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"All right, listen up, everyone." Ephraim cast a stern countenance over the soldiers assembled in front of him. "In a little less than two hours we will be making landfall at Taizel. The enemy will be waiting for us there with every intention of preventing us from ever setting foot on solid land. So, naturally we're going to have to find some way around that. General Duessel – you might know him as the Obsidian – has drawn up a rough plan of battle." The Renaitian lord nodded, indicating Duessel to come forward, which he did.

"All right – Taizel is a port town, like Bethroen. However, it differs significantly insofar that it sees a far greater amount of traffic on a daily basis, and is thus much busier, not to mention far more heavily populated. Standard battle procedure is to get noncombatants indoors before the festivities begin. The Grad defenders should have had ample time to accomplish this." Duessel heaved a sigh. "The majority of you here are Frelian soldiers, some Renaitian, and a few – a precious few – from Grado itself. I know that you are angry – angry at Emperor Vigarde for starting this war, angry at the soldiers at Grado for having taken so much from you, angry at all of Grado itself for not having suffered like you have. But please – absolutely _no_ noncombatant casualties, if at all possible. This land has seen enough bloodshed already."

Standing in formation, Amelia listened silently to the aged general. She supposed she understood what he felt – she was already uneasy enough about fighting Grad soldiers, never mind cowering women or children. Back in Bethroen, the initial shock of Grad soldiers trying to kill General Duessel had led to a numbing – a mental disconnect, of sorts – where she hadn't actually felt like she was facing Grad soldiers loyal to the crown after all. Now, though…

_Snap out of it._ She told herself, and she returned her attention to what the general was saying.

"They'll have hade time to bulk up their defenses," Duessel was saying. "Like it or not, _this_ is the current frontline of the war, or at least the most significant one. They also want as many of us dead before they ever have to face us in hand to hand combat. With that in mind, we're looking at projectile weaponry bombarding us while we're still far out at sea. Arrows, spells…"

"I've already sent word for the mages to place protective wards around the ships in order to prevent their catching on fire." Ephraim cut in.

Duessel nodded. "Grado's stronger mage divisions should be off preparing for an assault on Rausten – even if they've been recalled, they wouldn't have reached Taizel in time to face us. We should be safe from magic annihilating our ships. The danger here are arrows.

"As said before, Grado will want to kill as many of us as possible before we ever reach the port – with that in mind, arrows by the hundreds are going to be pouring into the ships, as well as catapults trying to knock open holes in our vessels – and I wouldn't be surprised to see a number of wyverns diving down on us."

Amelia caught sight of several of the soldiers exchanging nervous glances, and she supposed she could hardly blame them. Her own stomach seemed to be twisting itself into knots."

"The more heavily armoured soldiers will be topside – they'll be there to fend off aerial attacks and to protect the ship's crew. Those lacking in bodily protection will, meanwhile, be waiting within the ship's interior, anticipating the command to charge – which will be given once we dock. The army has been separated into three primary groups, and I trust you know your own groupings. The first team is to rush the catapults and ballistas and disable them – if possible, in such a manner that they can later be salvaged for our own use. The second team is to quickly form a defensive perimeter around the dock area so as to allow the later ships to enter quickly. The last group is to attempt an offensive action to seize control of the town from Grado. Failing that, they are to merge with groups one and two as situation dictates. That is the worst-case scenario. We _need_ a quick victory here, gentleman. If they get the time to fortify to Za'abul marshes from attack, we'll be in for a long, hard slog when what we really need to do is reach the capital as fast as is humanly possible." The General paused, his weathered gaze sweeping over the assembled soldiers. "Any questions?"

There were none, although Amelia could detect some subdued muttering in the crowds.

"Right then, you may disperse until the call to arms is sounded. I trust you've received your individual, more detailed battle plans. Dismissed."

As the soldiers slowly began to break up, Amelia glanced down at her tunic. She had yet to receive a new set of armour – probably a breakdown in the logistics _somewhere_, and she supposed that would place her firmly in the camp of 'not heavily armoured'.

Idly, she wondered which category Franz fit into.

* * *

"You'll be staying belowdecks with Amelia, of course." Forde said without looking up.

Franz nodded in affirmation as he sat down beside his brother. "I'm not like one of the armour knights – I rely more on trying to dodge hits than in soaking them up. So… yeah, below."

"That wasn't really the answer I had in mind." Forde chuckled. "I meant that even if you _did_ fit into the category of those who stood a better than usual chance of surviving the arrows, you'd insist on staying close to your fair maiden."

"Why didn't I see the jab coming?" Franz mumbled. "Yes, Forde, I _will_ be staying close to Amelia. I _will_ protect her."

"Such devotion!" Forde smirked. "What about your own flesh and blood kin, then, brother?"

"As if _you_ needed protection from anything." Franz muttered sourly.

"Don't worry, little brother," The crimson-clad knight flashed him an easy smile. "You'll be at my level in no time."

Before Franz could offer a reply, there was the sound of a blaring horn and instantly every soldier leapt to attention, the two brothers included.

"TO ARMS!" The bellow surged along the ship, the signal being spread to the entire convoy that carried the entirety of the Frelian army.

"Time to go."

Quickly, the two of them descended into the interior of the ship. Cramped and stuffy at the best of times, being filled with countless people, most of whom were decked out in battle armour, made it nigh unbearable.

Still, it couldn't be helped. As Franz took the last step off the wooden stairs, he spied a flash of golden hair.

"Amelia…" As quickly as possible, he wended his way through the crowd. As she caught sight of him, a smile spread across her features.

"Franz! I was wondering where you'd went off to. So…" she paused. "You'll be staying belowdecks, right?"

"Sure," he smiled back at her. "Don't worry – I'll be close by at all times."

She nodded, although Franz detected something akin to regret passing briefly over her features. "That's good." She said softly. "That's good."

And then silence descended around the two of them as they waited.

* * *

After having been defeated in two successive battles against Ephraim's forces, the Grad army was understandably anxious about the fact that Ephraim planned to carry out a seaborne invasion of Taizel.

And so it was that as the seagoing vessels approached, a storm erupted from the shore, a storm whose single focus was to prevent the soldiers onboard the vessels from ever taking a single step on Grad soil again.

Within the hold of foremost ship, Amelia resisted the urge to wince as she heard the sound of arrows being fired into the ship in endless waves. She knew the tough wooden hide of the vessel would be enough to withstand the arrows, but she winced all the same.

What worried her more, though, were the ballistas and catapults. While it was acknowledged that they were horribly inaccurate, a single shot finding its mark would devastate the ship structural integrity, which was a fancy way of saying that the hull would be torn to pieces.

The ship shuddered, and Amelia winced again. Oh, why did it have to take so long for them to reach port? Down here in the hold, she could see nothing of how the battle above was progressing – whether the Frelian knights were holding their own, winning, or losing badly. She couldn't see anything of the battle.

And so instead she chose to look at Franz.

It only made sense, after all. Glancing around wildly only brought anxiety – looking at his gentle, open face brought a sense of peace, however slight and fleeting.

Franz was watching the exit to the hold, his face impassive even as the ship rocked and swayed. He barely seemed to notice – based on the expression in his eyes, his thoughts were a million miles away.

Then abruptly the ship jerked, far more strongly than any time prior, and for a moment Amelia feared that they had been hit by a ballista bolt or a catapult's boulder, but no, it hadn't felt like the ship had taken a hit, it felt more like…

"**LANDFALL!"** Came the bellow. "Everybody, OUT!"

Amelia didn't need to be told twice. Under ordinary circumstances, all the soldiers in the ship rushing out at the same time would have caused a massive logjam. But this had already been drilled into the soldiers prior, and so they exited in neat rows of six, trusting their on-deck brethren to cover them while they were still unable to defend themselves.

And it was in such a manner that Amelia leaped back into the sunlight, Franz at her side, lance in hand, ready to defend herself from an Grad soldiers that might attack her-

What she was most certainly _not_ ready for, however, was the sight of a humongous spider sinking its fangs into the figure of the doomed soldier that had exited right ahead of her.

"What in-" She began, but before she could continue her question, the soldier's screams of agony abruptly ceased, and the spider released the limp corpse. Amelia just barely stifled a scream of horror as the cadaver rolled slightly, allowing her to see the blank empty eyes, and the strange grey rot that appeared around the wounds where the spider had bitten it. Whatever venom the creature kept in its fangs was obviously a potent one.

Around her soldiers were already hacking at the thick hide of the beast, but the creature barely seemed to notice, continuing its rampage across the ship's deck, occasionally lifting one of its spindly legs to kick away soldiers that were giving it more trouble than usual.

"A Bael…" She heard Franz mutter. Silently she wondered how he knew the name of the creature, and a moment later she decided that it really was the sort of thing that should be saved for later. Raising her lance, she gave him a questioning look, and upon his returning nod, the two of them set out for the overgrown beast.

They got two steps before gargoyles swooped down on them. Well, two gargoyles swooped down on _Amelia_. Franz, meanwhile, was caught off guard by the determined advance of a wyvern rider.

Amelia's eyes widened, but she had no time before she was forced to defend herself against the two creatures. Fortunately, one of them had already suffered earlier injury from fighting some other soldier, and was easy to remove from the fight. The other continued to face off against her until an errant arrow shot pierced the bat-creature's throat, killing it.

Granted reprieve for a moment, Amelia gazed wildly at the scene around her. Everywhere she could see around her, monsters and soldiers, both from Frelia and Grado teemed. In the sky, Pegasi, wyverns, and gargoyles rose and fell in a deadly dance. She paused, panting, staring in particular at a skirmish within visible range. It was hard to say for certain, but it looked like – it truly, truly did look like – the monsters – they were – working in tandem – with – with…

_No._ Amelia shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the thought from her mind. The monsters were a freak occurrence, a chance blight upon the land. _The soldiers… my __**countrymen**__… they could not possibly be allied with these monsters…_

They could not.

And yet reality refused to be denied. Any corpse that fell bearing wounds made from the fiends was invariably from the side of the Frelian army. No Grad soldier felt the bite from the lance of a gargoyle, from the fangs of the Baels, or from the rotten claws of the zombies. Some of the monsters even threw themselves in front of Grad soldiers, shielding them from attack.

"God preserve us." She heard the whispered prayer from behind her, and as she turned and beheld Natasha, the Grad priestess' face white, she knew her friend had come to the same conclusion.

The two deserters from Grado stood and stared each other, shaken by the enormity of the realization. Everything – _everything_ – that Amelia had believed in or held dear about her beloved country seemed to now be in flux.

Yet there was still a battle to be fought, and Amelia wheeled, bringing her lance up once more. Determination shone in her eyes. If she could trust nothing from her own country, there were still other lifelines from with the cling on.

Neimi. Natasha. Ross. General Duessel. Lord Ephraim.

Franz.

For them she would fight. With a cry, as much of anguish as of raw determination, she charged into the fray.

* * *

The wyvern rider had been knocked into the water, his mount disabled, and now Franz turned to other matters – such as putting down the rogue Bael that was still wreaking havoc amongst the soldiers.

Baels were understandably rare in the lowlands – they preferred the craggy mountains, which their eight legs were well suited to traversing. Franz had heard stories of bandit encampments being wiped out by Baels that chanced upon the hideouts. Still, they usually saw little reason to venture further down – which meant that their doing so now was likely the result of someone manipulating them.

_As if that wasn't obvious enough anyway._ Franz thought as he slashed the head off a revenant that had chanced on him. The conversation he'd had with Natasha over Emperor Vigarde's role in the monster's appearance was weighing heavily on him, and given the scene before him, it was pretty damned obvious that, somehow or other, Grado _was_ involved in the monster's disappearance.

A Grad soldier leapt at him, sword already drawn. Franz dodged the blow, swinging around to nail his elbow into the back of the soldier's neck.

Neige would still be housed in the stables of the ship… maybe once they'd established a perimeter and could get back onto dry land he could bring her out. Until then, however…

He neared the Bael, who was still unaware of Franz's presence. Then again, he supposed the numerous soldiers jabbing weapons at its thick hide (with noticeably little effect) would serve as a rather handy distraction.

Putting all of his strength into his swing, he slashed at one of the Bael's legs.

The exoskeleton of the Bael served as excellent body armour, and as such Franz failed to cut all the way through the leg. Nevertheless green blood spewed from the mark, and the Bael stumbled, suddenly forced to rebalance itself.

Darting forward, he whirled to look the Bael in the… well, he could only assume it _was_ an eye, and he stabbed down at it. The creature shrieked and convulsed.

Elsewhile, the rest of the Frelian soldiers were finally making some headway in hacking their way through the Bael's body, and as the wounds piled up, the spider's movements became less and less, until they final ceased.

Stepping back with a groan of exertion, Franz allowed himself a grin of exuberance as he belied the fallen creature. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned around, seeking Amelia.

After several long moments, he realized that she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Amelia got the distinct feeling that she had gone and done something rather foolish by rushing off into the press of Frelian soldiers. Her job, after all, had been to secure the dock, not the town area.

Now, though, she was near the town square, following orders she recognized as not her own, and facing off against a determined squad of both soldiers and monsters.

She stabbed forward, slaying one of the floating eyeball things as she did so. The defenders of the town were better organized than they had expected, and the going was hard.

_Wish you were here, Franz._ She thought to herself as she continued her fight. _I'd feel much safer with you at my side._ Almost as soon as the thought came up, she tried to dismiss. She'd _promised_ herself. She had to grow stronger. She couldn't keep being a burden to him.

Another one of the skeleton soldiers. Amelia smashed in its skull with the heavy point of her weapon. Thus far she had limited her fights to the monstrosities. Most of the smaller ones were far easier kills than a Grad soldier, and the thought of raising her weapon against her countrymen still unnerved her more than she was willing to admit. That there were alternative targets for her was a good thing, she supposed.

And then she felt pain explode in her side, and she stumbled. As she turned, she saw a revenant standing there, its outstretched right hand slick with wet blood. Her blood.

Of course… the revenant's claws, which should have been too weak to pierce armour, could easily tear through the tunic she was wearing. Risking a quick glance down, her heart pulsed with alarm at the realization that the wound was a serious one, and would require medical attention – and fast.

The revenant growled something unintelligible, and raised its other clawed arm. Quickly, Amelia shifted her lance into position, taking aim at the zombie's head –

And then she jerked back as the right portion of the zombie's head exploded in a blast of light.

She stood there, staring dumbly as the creature's remains flopped to the ground. And from behind her, she heard a cheery, perky voice.

"Whew, that was a close one! Good thing I got the spell off in time. I'm still not entirely one-hundred percent certain on how to cast it reliably, but hey, it worked, didn't it? That's what matters!"

She turned, catching sight of a young lad about her age with a shock of flame-coloured hair. As he neared her, his eyes widened.

"Sheez! That's a nasty wound you've got there. Wait, lessee… Master hasn't taught me any healing magics yet, but I've got this." Mumbling, he pulled a blue vial from the pouch at his waist.

"Here, use this. It's an Elixir. It'll fix up that wound in _no_ time. Honest!"

Hesitantly, Amelia accepted the vial from the lad, and splashed some of it over the bleeding wound. There was the initial sting, but like when a vulnerary was used, it soon faded. _Unlike_ using a vulnerary, however, the healing effects were much more potent. In seconds, the wound had closed.

"Wow." She mumbled as she handed the bottle back to the now-grinning youth. "Thanks a lot, um…" She paused, suddenly aware that she had no idea what the boy's name was.

"Aw, it was no bother!" He winked at her. "I just love saving damsels in distress, after all."

Amelia grinned despite herself. "Uh… I'm sorry, but what's your name?"

"Hm? Oh!" The boy thrust his chest out proudly. "I'm Ewan! I'm a student of the Mountain Sage, Saleh!" Whoever Saleh was, Ewan certainly took pride in his association with that man.

"Oh. Well, it's nice to meet you… Ewan." Silently, Amelia rolled the syllables around in her mind.

Ewan.

She rather liked that name.

* * *

**Chapter End**

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Thanks for reading. Please review. 


	25. Anguish

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No Longer Alone

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Howdy! Didja miss me? Well, fret no more. The 25th chapter of 'No Longer Alone' is up and ready!

Seems a lot of people have their ideas with how our latest addition to the cast is going to mix things up. Heh… well, let's hope I can keep you all entertained. Today's chapter looks to be a little shorter than usual, however…

* * *

_If Amelia isn't here, then she must be…_ Even as Franz started running down the ship, he was gazing at the centre of the town, where the attack squad was supposed to be by now…

"Yo, Franz!"

Whirling, he caught sight of Forde, already astride his own warhorse, and hanging on to the reins of Neige. "Thought you two might wanna get reacquainted. She's a little antsy after being cooped up inside for so long."

"Thanks." Franz nodded gratefully and whistled, calling his steed over. Quickly grabbing ahold of the saddle and mounting her, he drew his sword and nodded to his brother. A moment later, Kyle rode up beside the both of them.

"The area's as secure as it's gonna get. We're to move in to assist the group at the residential area."

With a nod shared by the three cavaliers of Renais, they were riding into the town at full speed, the glint of determination in their eyes.

* * *

"So, Ewan…" Amelia broke off speaking long enough to smash her lance into the head of an approaching revenant. "Mind telling me why you're here and fighting with us? Not that I don't appreciate the help, of course."

"No problem!" The apprentice mage grinned as he shot off a fireball that eradicated a skeleton that had been dueling a Frelian knight. "See, I'm actually part of a mercenary band-"

"Um, you don't… _look_ like a mercenary…" Amelia said hesitantly as she ducked under a sword swipe of yet another bone warrior. Lashing out with her foot, she succeeded in dislodging the left thigh bones of the creature and it collapsed to the floor. Another stab to the head finished the job.

"Yeah, I know – I'm still in training and all… _whoa!_" The redhead jerked back to avoid a blast of dark energy from a nearby eyeball. "Anyway! Apparently there was a screw-up and one of our soldiers was assigned here when she wasn't supposed to be. I'm supposed to be looking for her."

"I see…" Taking careful aim, she struck down the Mogall that had been harassing Ewan. "But that still doesn't explain why you decided to help me… help our side."

"Oh, that's easy!" Ewan laughed lightly. "It'll be easier to look for who I'm supposed to if I'm not alone. And all things being equal, I'd rather fight for the team that's _not_ allied with ancients monstrosities of death and darkness, you know?"

At Ewan's flippant response, Amelia felt a fresh jolt of pain through her heart. She still… she still hadn't gotten used to the truth of the matter… of Grado's alliance with… with those… things.

The apprentice mage apparently noticed something was wrong, because he turned to face her. "Amelia? You okay?"

She waved it away with a smile that in no way mirrored what she was really feeling inside her heart. "Fine. I'm fine."

The pupil-mage nodded and wiped some of the sweat from his brow. "Well, I should start looking for her. She should be fine, wherever she is… she's a tough one."

Amelia frowned as the two of them set out to rejoin the larger group of soldiers. "Um… maybe you could tell me what she looks like? So I could… y'know… help you keep an eye out for her."

"Oh… well… she's got lilac hair – it's actually really pretty. Her face is… well, she usually keeps her feeling under wraps, so it always looks really stern…"

"Everyone always looks stern in the middle of a battle." Amelia pointed out. "Well, unless they're looking fierce. Or scared."

"Well, yeah…" Ewan sighed. "I'm not very used to fighting, you know… aside from clearing out a couple of monsters near Caer Paelyn – oh, that's where I live – this is my first real battle."

"It – it is? Wow… you're a natural." Amelia sighed and shook her head. "My first battle… my first battle was a complete disaster. If – if it hadn't been for Franz, I would've…"

"Franz?" Ewan quirked and eyebrow. "Who's he?"

"Oh! Right, once I've got the chance, I'll have to introduce the two of you. I'm sure you two will get along great!"

"That's nice…" Ewan grinned. "But you haven't really told me anything about him yet."

"Oh, uh…" The lancer gazed at the ground, a tiny smile on her face. "Franz is… Franz is the one who saved me."

"Saved you?" The questioning look on the mage's face was apparent for all to see, but before Amelia could make a proper reply, they came the thundering of hooves from behind the two of them, and there he was, smiling with relief as he pulled Neige to a stop next to her.

"Amelia! I was wondering where'd you run off to."

"Yeah, I just…" She shrugged, a sheepish smile on her face. "Got caught up in the rush and ended up here somehow. Oh!" Turning to Ewan, she gestured back and forth between the two of them. "Franz, Ewan. Ewan, Franz. He's a journeyman mage-pupil… guy. He's been helping me out."

"Oh… hi, Ewan." Franz smiled at the flame-haired youth, but Amelia thought he could detect some traces of uncertainty in his expression. Well, whatever it was, she was sure it could be sorted out later…

A sudden uproar distracted the group – the Grad soldiers had apparently rallied and were now preparing for another assault to try to force the Frelian defenders back. Only… this time they appeared wary of sacrificing their human soldiers and were, by and large, letting the monsters do the work for them.

Amelia traded a nod with Franz, and as one, they charged into the melee.

* * *

Parrying a sword-slash, Franz twisted and stabbed down, cutting deep into the enemy soldier's leg. With a cry of pain, his opponent fell.

Making use of the short breather he was allowed, he quickly scanned the field of battle around him. Amelia was several paces away, finishing off a fallen gargoyle. No other enemy troops appeared to be targeting her for the moment.

Forde and Kyle were off to the side, cutting a bloody swathe through their opponents. Well, he didn't need to worry about them just now… Pivoting on one foot, he turned and headed for Amelia, who was currently falling back to defend a wounded Neimi. Just then, he was distracted by a shout.

"Marisa!"

And out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the mage kid – Ewan, wasn't it? – turning away from his enemy, and running over to one of the Grado soldiers.

_What in the-_ "HEY!" Franz snapped, turning and charging after the soldiers. "What do you think you're-" One of the Grad soldiers, apparently finding a lone, unarmoured youth an easy target, and raised his axe.

_NO!_ Moving as fast as he could, he managed – barely, just _barely_ – to knock the axe away with his sword, enough so that it didn't cut into Ewan's spine. The young mage spun around, eyes wide.

Twisting, Franz tried to bring his sword around to stab the Grad, but it was a predictable move and easily countered. Stepping back, he started to move into a defensive pose when –

"Get down."

Instinctively, Franz complied, and he caught sight of a blur moving past him. A moment later, the axefighter staggered back, clutching a bleeding arm.

"Back off. Now." Standing in front of the both of them was a female swordfighter, her face emotionless as he held a curved blade in a ready position. The Grad soldier glared daggers at her, but seemed to reconsider taking on three soldiers at the same time. With a muttered curse, he retreated from the frontlines.

As Franz tried to make sense of the situation (and the newcomer), Ewan walked over, a big grin on his face. "You're as strong as ever, Marisa!" Then, he paused. "Although… it's not like you to spare a soldier like that."

"I'm quitting without notice." The female swordfighter said tersely as she sheathed her weapon. "Killing them when they still assume I'm on their side is the tactics of cowards and rogues."

"Oh, okay." Ewan then turned to Franz. "Thanks for the save back there – I don't think I'd have made it out unscathed if you hadn't been looking out for me."

"Well… I couldn't just let you get yourself chopped in half because you were careless. You're Ewan, right?"

"Yup. And you're Franz." The pupil grinned cheerily at him. "Amelia told me about you."

Exactly _what_ Amelia had said about him was filed away under a long list of things for Franz to do later, 'later' being a period of time in which there were no opposing forces after him with an intent to injury.

For now, though, there was a battle to fight.

* * *

"You okay, Neimi?" Amelia gave her friend a concerned look. The archer nodded. "Just a bit of a leg wound. I'm fine now."

Assured of her friend's safety, Amelia continued wading through the melee, always picking out the monstrosities as her targets.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Franz and Ewan seemingly working together in facing down their foes and she quirked a smile. So far the two seemed to be getting along fine – although the fact that they were in a battlefield made actual bonding time rather difficult to come across.

Well, perhaps she could stand to join them-

The attack was sudden and unexpected, and Amelia barely had enough time to dodge the lance-strike before it would have pierced her heart. As it was, a streak of pain exploded in her arm, and she steadied herself as she turned to face her next foe.

The soldier was helmeted, such that she could not see his face. He was also fully armoured, which put her at a bit of disadvantage, seeing as how her chestplate had been discarded some time ago.

That, and she didn't really want to make a habit of facing Grads in battle…

Moving into a defensive stance, she was able to block a couple of the strikes from her opponent, but it was clear that he was far more skilled than her, and that he had the advantage. Breathing heavily, she tried to skip backwards to get herself some breathing room – and ended up slamming into a revenant that had stumbled up behind her.

With a cry of surprise, she was sent tumbling, tucking herself into a roll as she did so. As soon as she had recovered her balance, she glanced up to see the helmeted soldier standing over her, his spear leveled at her head.

At that exact instant, three things happened at almost exactly the same instant.

An arrow zipped through the air, impacting solidly with the Grad soldier's knee. With a cry of surprise and pain, he stumbled.

A fireball smashed into the soldier's hand, exploding in a blaze of light and heat. Amelia winced at the intense heat that roiled off the orb of flame, but she was otherwise unharmed. The force of the attack caused the Grad to release his grip on his weapon, which clattered to the floor.

Third, and last, was the shining blur of Franz's sword in a vertical slash as he cut down on the soldier's helm. Amazingly, the steel headgear cracked partially, and the force of the impact knocked the soldier forward.

Not thinking, Amelia instinctively brought her lance up, aiming it at her enemy's chest. With a horrible screech of tortured metal, the armour held, but the force of her strike sent the lance upwards – to where it pierced the soldier's neck. A small spurt of blood came out, spattering Amelia across her face.

"Amelia!" Neimi cried as she ran over, her bow still clutched tightly in hand.

"You okay?" Ewan questioned as he put away the spellbook he had been holding.

She glanced up, saw Franz looking silently at her, and she smiled.

"Fine." She sighed. "Just a little rat...tled…" Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at the soldier she had just killed. His helmet had fallen off his head when he had slumped to the ground, revealing his head.

Along with his impressive mane of scarlet hair.

Amelia slumped to the ground and let out a choked sob.

* * *

"How's she holding up?" Franz said softly as Neimi emerged from the room she was sharing with Amelia. The battle was long over by now, ending with yet another victory for the Frelian Army. Amelia, however, had been so badly shaken by what she had seen that she'd been unable to participate for the remainder of the battle – for whatever reason. Franz still wished he knew more about the situation…

"She's still pretty pale and quiet…" Neimi sighed. Franz shook his head. Back when Amelia had looked down at the defeated soldier, she'd turned white as a sheet before taking a step backwards. "She hasn't said much," Neimi continued. "She just… well, she just sits and stares."

"Maybe it was someone she knew." Franz opined. "You know, from back in the Grado army."

"Back from the _what_?" Ewan glanced up from where he had located himself by the window.

"Oh… you didn't get a chance to find out. Yeah, Amelia's from Grado. I… fought her…" 'Fought' was of course too kind a term, but Ewan didn't really need to know that. "And convinced her to lay down her arms – later she wanted to join us, and here we are. That's the summary, anyway."

A silence descended on the three of them, until Neimi broke it via a soft smile and touching Franz's shoulder. "I… think you should go in."

"Wha-?" Franz glanced up. "But-"

"Franz, it's obvious she trusts you a whole lot. More than anyone else – me included." Neimi's smile grew more resigned. "You were the first one who befriended her, after all. Go on. Go talk to her."

"But… but I-" _I don't know how to talk to someone!_ Franz's mind screamed in mute protest as he stiffly walked to the door.

Opening it a crack, he peered inside to see Amelia looking out the window.

"Amelia?" He questioned softly. "Can I come in?"

There was a long moment in which nothing changed. Then a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

Feeling just a little bit buoyed by this response, he walked forward, settling himself down on the wooden chair next to hers.

What to do? What to say? He couldn't find the least thing to say that felt would help, and so he said nothing.

Then, after a moment's hesitation, he reached over and clutched her hand tightly.

* * *

She felt and registered Franz's awkward – but comforting – actions, and she closed her eyes, letting the maelstrom of her emotions continue to thunder about within her.

The two of them sat in silence, Franz not asking… not talking… just… being there. For her.

That thought comforted her more than she would have believed possible.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, and began to talk softly. "Back in Grado… he was my instructor. My sergeant. He taught me the basics of being a soldier… showed me how to do things… He taught me what he could in the little time I spent with him. On my last day there… he… he told me that he was the best recruit he had had the privilege of tutoring in a very long while. I was… I was so happy when I heard that. And I killed him. I killed him. I… killed…" She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of burning tears.

"It… he was wearing a helmet, Amelia." Franz said softly, stumbling over his words. "You couldn't have known it was him."

She knew that, on a logical level, that Franz was right. She also knew, on a logical level, that if she hoped to continue fighting without going insane, she was going to have to become strong enough to face her qualms about fighting – and killing – her own countrymen. But none of this served to make her feel the least bit better.

"Maybe…" She continued numbly. "Maybe I couldn't recognize him – but he could recognize me. And he attacked me, all the same. He fought me – he would have killed me." As if she needed more proof of the gulf that separated her from the country she called her homeland. Her role as the traitorous deserter was now set in stone.

Franz simply sat there silently for a long while, his hand curled around hers, and she bit her lip. She needed someone, _anyone_, to spill out her burdens on, and now… she had inflicted Franz the same burdens she carried… it wasn't fair to him. He was probably trying to find the words to comfort her right now…

"I wonder why this whole war started." Franz finally spoke softly. "I wonder about it a lot. I wonder why Grado would suddenly betray all the ties they'd built up with the various nations on Magvel. I wonder why they would turn upon us – their closest ally and friend – with all of their military might. I wonder why, and how, so many lives could be destroyed so suddenly and so quickly by so random a turn of events." He closed his eyes and sighed. "I wonder how my life could have been upended so quickly."

"I…" Amelia begun, her voice grinding to a halt almost immediately.

"Then I remember you. I remember that you don't know any more than I do, that you're just as scared and confused as I am. I remember you telling me the story of how the legendary hero Grado saved all of Magvel – and that that was how your country got its name. I remember the pride in your voice as you spoke about how you believed your country was one that believed in justice and peace. And I remember seeing the slow sadness and resignation in your eyes as you remember that you're fighting a war against your own nation. I remember that whatever pain, anxiety, whatever I'm feeling, you feel it a hundred times worse."

"…It was wrong for Grado to invade Renais." Amelia finally found her voice. "I don't know what in the world could possibly hope to justify such an action. Grado has no right to ruin the lives of thousands. It's all… it's all wrong. I know this." She squeezed her eyes closed, leaning forward to rest her head on her hand. "And now… I find out that… they're using… monsters…" She choked back a sob. "It's wrong. All of it. I want to do what is right… I want to stop Grado. But…"

"But you still love your homeland." Franz finished the sentence for her. "You still wish you could return to the days where you believed in Grado, in her Emperor… that doing the right thing wouldn't be as painful as this."

She nodded mutely.

"I can't pretend to know what it's like. I've never faced such a crisis of conscience as you have." Franz continued, staring out the window, at the brilliantly blue sky. "I… I honestly don't know what to say, Amelia. I just…" He closed his eyes, sighed. "I just want you to know – if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or a kind word, or, well, anything at all – I'll be there for you."

Amelia smiled through the tears. "Thank you." She said softly. "Thank you."

* * *

It was evening when Amelia left her inn-room in search of sustenance. She had some time to gather herself, and despite the lingering ache in her heart, she felt ready to… well, smile. To function.

Besides, she was _starving_.

As she rounded the corner, she was met by the sight of a red-headed mage arguing with a young axefighter.

"No, you can do it in two steps. Look, first you divide up the coins like th- Oh, hey! Amelia!" Ewan flashed her a cheery grin. "How're you feeling?"

"Oh, fine." Amelia smiled at her friend. "Where's Franz?"

Ross sighed and muttered. "He's at the training session that I should be joining shortly. Thanks for reminding me."

Ewan grinned at the Journeyman. "Well, tough luck. Just make sure you don't train too much – wouldn't want your brains turning to muscle too, you know!"

"Ha ha, very funny." Ross muttered. "C'ya around, Amelia."

"Yeah… bye." Amelia waved after the departing figure.

That, of course, left her alone with Ewan in the hallway.

"So…" The mage shrugged. "Where're you off to?"

"Oh, dinner, I guess." Amelia shrugged.

"In that case," Ewan stood and bowed as regally as he could manage. "Would the fair maiden mind if I were her escort for the night?"

She chuckled, despite herself. "Ewan, cut it out."

"Heh. So, you don't mind if we went together, do you?"

"Of course not! I'm sure I'd enjoy your company very much."

And so she went with Ewan, enjoying the coolness of the evening, letting herself forget her sorrows – if only for the time being, for the moment.

* * *

Chapter End

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Thank you for reading. Please review.


	26. Respite

No Longer Alone

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Thanks for being patient readers while waiting for my update, guys. Next chapter's up, so enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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"So you live up in Caer Paelyn? That's… that's a really long way away from here, isn't it?" Amelia questioned as she dug into the meal before her.

"Yeah, I guess. Practically halfway across the continent, if my geography lessons serve." Ewan shrugged as he lifted his mug and drank. "I'm used to traveling, though. Ever since I was a kid I followed my sister around – when she joined up with that mercenary band I told you about, I just tagged along until I caught the attention of Master Saleh."

"You mentioned him before…"

"Uh-huh." Ewan grinned. "He's my teacher. People call him the Mountain Sage because he lives in Caer Paelyn and he's really smart."

_Well, it's a good thing that he didn't live in a more ordinary place. "Town Sage" just doesn't have the same ring to it._ The thought bubbled up in Amelia's mind, but she wisely chose not to say it out loud. She knew hero worship well enough – after all, she was certain it applied pretty closely to her and General Duessel – to see that Ewan held his mentor in very, _very_ high regard. Sort of the way Franz behaved whenever he talked about Renais' General Seth, she mused.

"So, he's a mage, then?" She said instead.

"Yup!" The redhead nodded enthusiastically. "He taught me everything I know about magic," he paused. "Which, well, admittedly still isn't that much, but I'm learning!"

Amelia nodded, taking a sip from her own drink. "So…" She began hesitantly. "Is magic difficult?"

"Well, you kinda need an affinity for it in the first place – that's how Master Salen decided to train me. He said I had the potential." Ewan let out a shy grin.

"Heh…" Amelia chuckled. "I wonder if I have any potential for magic, then."

"Who knows." Ewan shrugged. Then he paused. "Hey, want me to show you some magic?"

"H- here? Now?" Amelia blurted out. Instinctively, she glanced around the crowded tavern. "Wouldn't that be kinda… dangerous?"

Ewan laughed at that. "No, no… not at all! Not all magic is used for fighting, you know. For example, you can use magic to do… _this_!" Suddenly the area around the two of them was filled with dozens of shimmering, glowing multicoloured orbs that weaved through the air in a breathtaking display of light.

"Wow…" Amelia breathed out as she gazed over at the dazzling array. "That's… that's magic too?"

"Uh huh." Ewan's grin became sly. "That's magic used to make girls happy."

"Ewan…" The lancer shot the young mage a look, though she couldn't keep the tiny smirk off her face. "Stop making fun."

"All right, all right." Ewan shrugged. "I just thought you'd want a bit of cheering up, especially after how you behaved this afternoon."

Amelia stared down at her food. "The way this war is going…?" She sighed. "I don't really think getting cheered up is a good idea."

"Hey, now. That's just asking for trouble." Ewan shook his head. "Look, Amelia, the whole continent's a mess right now, that's true. That's not going to change for a while, either. But you can always try to smile, even when it gets really bad."

"Easier said than done, Ewan," She said softly. "It'll be a long time before I can smile in the face of such… such chaos, such devastation."

Ewan nibbled at his lip thoughtfully. "That's true. So maybe you don't start with the whole war. Start with… I dunno, smaller things. Hey, Amelia, do you like training sessions?"

"Huh?" Amelia blinked, startled by the suddenness of the question. "W-well, I'm glad that I have the opportunity to grow stronger, of course. I don't want to a liability on the field. But… well, it's tiring, and I usually ache a lot after a session."

"Well, do you think you could find a way to start enjoying it more?" Ewan's expression on his face plainly suggested that he was up to something, but Amelia hadn't the faintest inkling _what_. "A way to… make it fun?"

"Make it fun?" She repeated. "Ewan… I – where are you going with this?"

"Change your perspective. Challenge yourself. Every moment now is a moment you're never going to get again in the future, so you might as well enjoy it." Ewan grinned. "My sister taught me that a long time ago. You should try it yourself sometime." Saying so, he pushed his chair back and began to leave the table. "See you later, Amelia."

As he left, Amelia sat in her chair, musing over what Ewan had just told her. "How I make things fun…" She murmured to herself. _Come to think of it, that's kind of like how my rivalry with Franz works, right? It helps the both of us to grow stronger together and it feels less like work too._ Amelia shrugged to herself as she swallowed the last bite of her meal. "Well, it's worth a try."

* * *

Guard duty was a task as inevitable as it was boring. Security could never afford to be compromised, and as such, many nights were spent by the foot soldiers of the Frelian army staring out at vast swathes of nothing.

Franz sighed to himself as he stood his post, staring out at the land before him. Behind him, the town buzzed with the comings and goings that marked it as housing an army within its limits.

Just beyond the lights of the town, the lands ahead faded into inky blackness. It was… quiet. Peaceful, really.

In a few days – a week, at absolute most – they'd be on the march once more, heading towards for the capital of Grado. The young knight closed his eyes and sighed. He'd never shied away from the fighting before, and he wasn't going to start now, but…

Oh, right. No closing of eyes while on guard duty. Hastily opening them again, Franz resumed his vigil. Well, at any rate his shift should be over soon, and then he could turn in for the night...

It was true that he'd never had a crisis of conscience like Amelia had, and he knew that he certainly wasn't going through anything as difficult as she was right now, but…

_Behind every helmet is a face. Every face has a name, and every name has a story._

If _he_ were killed in the next battle, the person who did that probably wouldn't be doing it out of malice, hatred for Renais or Franz, or anything of that sort.

A lot of the reasons the Grad soldiers fought were obvious. They had been ordered to. It was kill or be killed. They simply wanted to defend their homeland.

He couldn't fault them for that. After, he himself fought largely for the same reasons.

But there _was_ one other reason he fought, and he wasn't sure if the Grads had the same conviction.

He fought because he believed he was doing the right thing.

_Do the… do the Grad soldiers truly believe what they're doing is right? Do they rationalize it away, or just try not to think about it? How could they possibly justify allying themselves with monsters of darkness?_

Franz pursed his lips. He knew Natasha had left Grado because she could no longer believe in the Emperor and his actions. And while the circumstances of Amelia leaving the Grad army had been markedly different, she now fought for Renais because she believed it was the right thing to do.

_The right thing…_

The continent was caught up in a vast, treacherous conflict, that much was clear. And it was most certainly bigger than him.

_Just do what you can._ He told himself. _If we all do our part, then we'll pull through in the end._

And speaking of everyone doing their part… Franz was pretty sure his relief was supposed to be here by now.

As if summoned by his thoughts, two figures slowly made their way over. Franz quirked a smile at both of them.

"Hi, Forde, Kyle."

"That's _Sir_ Forde to you, youngling." Forde shot back jokingly. "Kyle here's next on the schedule, and I decided to pop by for a bit as well."

Franz nodded and stepped aside to let the green-haired knight take his place. "How're you holding up, Franz?" Kyle looked over at him. "You're still a rookie in terms of years-"

"Months, Kyle. Months. Franz here hasn't even been a knight for a year yet."

"Give me… oh, two weeks and three days." Franz rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you were saying, Kyle?"

"Right. You're still the most junior out of all the Renais knights still available for service, but your combat ability is on par with most of the seniors – astonishingly so, in fact."

"W- well," Franz stammered. _I'm not __**that**__ good, am I?_ "General Seth was willing to train me personally, so maybe some of his techniques rubbed off, or… or something."

"Guess it could be in the blood." Forde grinned. "Me and Franz, we've got the _potential_."

Kyle and Franz rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Back to my question… while it is certainly a marvel to see your performance on the field of battle, I have to wonder if you're holding up to the strain of prolonged combat. Some things can only be mastered through experience, after all."

Franz chuckled sadly. "It's a draining experience, true. No need to worry, though. I'll be fine. I'm strong enough to handle this." _At least, I HAVE to be. For everyone's sake._

Forde shrugged. "You've got the same problem as Kyle here – you just don't know how to relax. Take some time off – forget about fighting. I haven't seen you go fishing recently."

"Fishing?" Franz looked at his brother incredulously. "In the middle of a _war_?"

"Yes, in the middle of a war. The fish don't suddenly vanish from the streams because men clad in metal are beating the giblets out of one another, you know."

"Just because you have a penchant for painting in the middle of a battle-"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Forde's grin remained as sterling as ever.

"I'm of the opinion that Forde's idea has some merit to it." Kyle said thoughtfully. "When you have some downtime, finding a quiet place to partake in a hobby you like is of great value… a respite for the soul, if you wish to call it that."

"What he said." Forde rejoined, pointing to Kyle. "Not to mention that if you catch something, we all get fresh fish for dinner! Everybody wins!"

"Ah, yes. I should have known that your massive appetite would have had something to do with this." Franz sighed. "Well, maybe I'll go fishing one of these days if I've ever the time, but right now I want to lie down and not know anything until tomorrow."

"Well then, sleep soundly, little brother. May your slumber be filled with pleasant dreams of a certain blonde-haired recruit."

Franz kicked a pebble in his brother's general direction and returned to his lodgings.

* * *

Holding training sessions early in the morning was a matter of simple logic. The earlier you got up, the less time you spent under the blazing sun, thus leading to less discomfort.

It was following this train of thought that led Amelia out into the centre of the courtyard in the blackest hours of morning, clutching only her training staff in her hands.

Of course, the call to rise would soon be sounded amongst the soldiers, and then the day's regimented training sessions could begin. But for now, there was just her.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Amelia began moving into a series of feints, strikes, parries, general combat moves.

_Half step forward, swing up, pull back, raise to block…_ As her body became accustomed to the maneuvers, even these simple thoughts ceased. There was just her and her weapon, moving in an intricate dance.

Just her and her weapon.

Just her.

"You've improved a lot since we first met, lass."

"Wha-!" Whirling, she caught sight of General Duessel sitting on a nearby bench, looking steadily at her. Quickly, she pulled herself into a salute. "G – good morning, General!" She blurted out.

"At ease." The Obsidian said softly as he stood. "Indeed, your stance, form, and movements hold more strength in them," he nodded. "You've grown a lot."

"Th- thanks." She murmured. "But I – I'm still nothing compared to someone like you, General. In a battle, it feels like… like I'm just doing all I can to stay alive."

Duessel nodded, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know what you mean, girl. It still seems like yesterday that every enemy I ever faced was my superior in combat ability."

"Really?" Mentally, Amelia tried to picture Duessel as a fresh-faced, inexperienced recruit. She had a fair amount of difficulty doing so.

"Yes, really." The aged General said with the ghost of a smile on his face.

"Well, m- most everyone else in this army looks up to you, General." Amelia stammered. She knew that getting so tongue-tied wasn't helping her appearance in from of the General, but she couldn't help it. Just _talking_ to him was overwhelming enough. As she glanced up at him, however, she noticed that he had a small frown on his face. "General Duessel?" she began hesitantly. "Is… something the matter?"

"Hm? No, no, not at all. It's just…" he sighed. "I'm sure I've seen your face before, I just can't remember _where_."

Amelia frowned at that. While she had kept up as much as she could with the General's exploits and deeds, it was inconceivable to her that he would recognize her face. "I… I'm not sure either," she confessed. "I never saw you in person before the recruitment line."

"Hm, well, I'm sure it'll come to me if it were important." Duessel dismissed the issue. "Anyway, Amelia, it's good that you're dedicated to your training, but pace yourself, all right? It won't do you any good to exhaust yourself."

"I know, General. But… well, I just want to get stronger, so I have to keep training, don't I?"

"Yes, I suppose you do." He chuckled. "Well, if you've any free time, you can come find me and I'll try to teach you a bit of what I know."

"H- huh?" She jerked back, stunned. "M- me? Your student?" She squeaked. "I – really?"

"I recall telling you before that I'm not in the habit of making jokes," Duessel quirked a smile. "The offer's open for whenever you need it, lass." With a slight wave goodbye, Duessel turned and walked away, leaving Amelia behind to ponder.

* * *

_Hm… I should probably make it a bit lighter than my own…_ Franz mused as he continued working on the satchel. Free time was a valued commodity amongst any army, and though Franz suspected that Prince Ephraim was more flexible on such issues than most commanders, he was still glad for the opportunity to simply sit and be with himself.

"Hey, whatcha up to?" A familiar voice floated up behind him and Franz turned in his seat to see Ewan walking up to him, a curious expression on his face.

"Hi." Franz said to the mage. "And as for your question, I'm making a satchel for one of the clerics."

"Sounds… uh, interesting."

"Indeed it does."

A silence descended upon the two of them until Franz finally looked up again. "Look, is there any reason in particular you're here?"

Ewan blinked. "Well, no, not really. I just wanted to see what you were doing."

"Okay then…" Franz returned to his work, with Ewan silently observing. Then, after a few seconds the mage spoke up again.

"What's it like?"

"Huh?"

"Being a soldier and all. Your lives always seem so… regimented and strict."

"…Aren't you a mercenary of sorts?" Franz raised an eyebrow. "You should be at least somewhat familiar with the sort of things a soldier does."

"Yeah, but, well…" Ewan rubbed the back of his head. "Life in the merc camps are usually a lot more relaxed. A lot of them just lounge around, train when they feel like it, get into brawls, and, I dunno… hang loose. There's the exceptions like Marisa – she's almost always training – but by and large, they live at their own pace."

_Which is why mercenaries generally aren't as good fighters as actual soldiers._ Franz chose not to articulate that particular thought. No sense in potentially antagonizing the young mage. "Well," he began. "I agree that our lives here follow more rigid schedules than most, but you get used to it pretty quickly. At least, you have to do that if you want to keep up." He grinned. "Most people are tougher than they'd think – even villagers like Neimi and Colm have adjusted to it well enough." _Although Colm did so with his fair share of grumbling, of course…_

"Huh." Ewan let out a resigned sigh. "Guess I should get used to predawn reveilles, huh?"

"More or less." Franz said dryly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm getting back to my satchel."

"Oh, sure. Sorry to bother you, and all…"

"Nah, no problem."

And as Ewan left to find something else to occupy his time with, Franz continued measuring, cutting, and sewing.

_Nice town. Good supply of materials._ He thought. _Pity we'll be leaving it soon._

Just then, the door to the room was flung open and Kyle appeared at the entrance.

"Franz! Get your things and be ready to move in full battle order in fifteen minutes!" And then he was gone.

_Okay, sooner than anticipated._ Franz hurriedly swept his project into the bag he had been using to carry the materials. As he hurried to prepare himself, he silently wondered just what was causing such a rush.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	27. Clash

No Longer Alone

* * *

This update took longer than expected thanks to my keyboard getting busted; I had to send it in for servicing, and now I'm down 85 Singaporean dollars. Oh well. New chapter's up. Hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"I settle down for a nap and two minutes later they're ordering us to fall in with full battle gear." Amelia muttered to herself as she hurtled down the stairs of the inn, frantically fastening her belt buckle.

She was almost out the door when she heard the sound of her name being called. Pausing, she turned to regard the innkeeper, who was walking over to her, cradling a rather bulky package.

_Ah, right. My new breastplate._ She'd placed the order a couple of days back. Not that there was any time now to open it and look…

Grabbing it (and belatedly remembering that these things were usually rather heavy), she nodded her thanks to the innkeeper before hurrying out the door. Soldiers usually learnt very quickly that keeping their commanders waiting was not a good idea.

As she stumbled out into the sunlight of the town square, she caught sight of the rapidly assembling mass of soldiers and quickened her pace.

"Amelia!"

She had two seconds to reflect on how people particularly liked interrupting her today as she turned around to regard a familiar green-clad figure walking up to her. "Franz!" She smiled. "I haven't seen you around."

"Yeah… life got in the way, I guess." He said with a sheepish smile. "Anyway, I came to get you – we're moving with the advance unit."

"Huh? A – advance?"

The male knight shook his head as he led her towards the town gates. "Myrrh's missing. She's the kid that's always hanging around Lord Ephraim. Apparently she's important for _something_, because Lord Ephraim's mobilizing the entire army to go find her." He paused. "The fact that we've received word of Grad fortifications at the Za'Albul Marshes – which is where Myrrh was last seen heading - probably doesn't help."

Amelia sighed. "Then… another battle?"

"Most probably." Franz slowed his pace slightly. "Amelia… if you don't want to do this, I can request Lord Ephraim to let you sit this one out-"

Amelia was shaking her head before the sentence had been completed. "Thanks for the concern Franz, but I'll be okay. I promise."

Her friend smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "All right then. Let's go."

* * *

"Keping up tension over a march lasting several hours never works very well." Forde observed sourly as he chewed at hunk of stale bread.

"The threat of imminent battle's keeping my tension high enough, thanks." Franz commented as he pulled on Neige's reins.

"Well, maybe the enemy commander will be intimidated enough that they'll surrender without putting up too much of a fight. We've got General Duessel riding point with Prince Ephraim, after all."

Franz sighed. "And we're doing all this because of a single girl? What's the big fuss about her, anyway?"

"Franz, brother, you're hardly someone to be patronizing others about being overprotective of a single person to the point of forsaking protocol." Forde said with a raised eyebrow.

It was obvious enough what Forde was talking about, and Franz glanced over his shoulder where Amelia was marching along on foot with the majority of the advance unit. Knowing that the heat in his face would be translating very rapidly to a flushed face, he sighed and muttered, "Point taken."

"We all have things we value to the exclusion of all else." Forde blew his breath out in a long sigh and grinned. "Only difference here is the person in question has enough clout to mobilize an army for his purposes. Besides," he shrugged. "We needed to use to path sooner or later to get to the capital. So we're bumping the schedule up a bit – no biggie."

"We're here." The hitherto silent Kyle broke the silence as they crested the last hill. And Franz failed to suppress a 'Here we go again' sigh at the sight before him.

Line upon line of faceless, armour-clad Grad soldiers, all standing at attention, shifting weapons into position, taking up defensive measures around the marshlands stood before them, forming an imposing wall of steel.

Franz's weapon was drawn before he knew it, and he guided Neige into a closer huddle with the other mounted soldiers, preparing for battle.

_It's supposed to get easier, and I suppose it has… but I've never gotten the feeling of dread to go away._ Subconsciously, he stole another glance at Amelia, who was swallowing nervously.

Just then, the Grad formations parted ranks, allowing a singular figure to stride forward. A frown creased the young cavalier's face as he saw who it was.

_Selena Fluorspar. One of Grado's Generals. I guess they're really taking us seriously now._ And walking at her side was-

Franz resisted the urge to utter a curse. Myrrh. Of course. Now that they had a hostage, he couldn't be sure Lord Ephraim would allow them to go all out in battle…

So absorbed was Franz in his thoughts that it took several moments for him to realize that General Selena had knelt down beside the young girl, speaking softly to her. With a small (but seemingly grateful) nod, the young girl took to the air on her –

"Wings?" Franz sputtered. Since when did Myrrh have wings? The young girl flew gracefully over to Ephraim, who quickly assessed her for any injuries. Seemingly satisfied that she was all right, Ephraim spoke softly to her and she vanished into the rear of the soldiers.

It was then that Selena Fluorspar spoke. Her voice was calm and controlled, but nevertheless projected across the entire Frelian advance force. Probably some kind of magic spell, Franz figured.

"Soldiers of Frelia and Renais. You are intruding upon soil sovereign to the Empire of Grado, held by his Imperial Majesty Vigarde the Eighth. Depart this land at once, or your blood shall be upon your own heads."

Ephraim stood, silent as the grave, as Selena made her proclamation. As the last word left her lips, he punched his spear into the air, its gleaming point shining brightly in the morning sun. The implication was clear. There would be no backing down.

General Selena stood there for a timeless moment before raising her hand in a slashing gesture. Instantly the Grad soldiers around her closed lines, raising pikes and spears, determined to halt the advance of the Frelian Army.

And the slaughter began anew.

* * *

_No monsters this time._ Amelia thought forlornly as she gazed out at the Gra – the enemy army. That wasn't good. She'd been holding a tiny hope at the back of her mind that if there more of the zombies and skeletons and whatnot to fight, she could avoid actual engagements with living, breathing Grads.

The perilous nature of the marshlands made a full-on charge straight into the thick of the soldiers an untenable proposition – losing one's footing and falling into the clutching mud could be as deadly as receiving a sword-strike to the head, and nowhere near as swift. Then again, the way Ephraim was ordering the front lines to move, it appeared that he was more interested in forming a defensive shell…

Of course. They were only the advance party sent to find Myrrh – Lord Ephraim probably hadn't counted on facing off against several companies worth of Grado's finest troops, and so he was going to dig in and hold on until the rest of his own army showed up.

With the press of soldiers all around her, Amelia soon found herself somewhere in the middle of the pack, her view obscured by mounted knights and waving spears.

And she waited.

After a while, she frowned slightly. While it was certainly noisy, it didn't seem much like the Grad soldiers were advancing either. They currently held the advantage in terms of numbers… were they waiting for something?

And then she could hear a strange 'thwpth' sound. It took her half a second to realize that that sound was immensely familiar for some odd reason, and another half-second to realize that it was now being replaced with the sound of something… several somethings… a whole _lot_ of somethings… flying through the air.

"SHIELDS UP!" She heard the bellow from the front line and instinctively she glanced up in time to see a veritable hail of arrows at the apex of their arc, all poised to rain down upon the huddled group of Frelian soldiers.

She stifled to urge to wince. Her head was entirely unprotected, and given how thickly the arrows were coming down, chances of her avoiding them would be infinitesimal.

She was about to duck back into the press of soldiers, hoping to make a smaller target, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry. Stick close to me and you'll be fine."

She whirled. "Franz? I thought you were… at the front…" She finished lamely.

Removing his hand, Ewan raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Ah, so that's what's going on between you two. You're going to have to tell me a bit more about that later." Then his face grew serious. "For now, though…"

Concentrating, he formed an orb of glowing magic in his hands, and hurled the orb into the sky. In an instant, it had expanded into a glowing sphere of blazing flame that floated upwards, serving as a rather effective shield against the arrows. All around them, other mages were doing largely the same thing, although the specific elements of the spells differed.

In such a manner were the majority of arrows rendered impotent, the few that got through the magical storm mostly bouncing off upraised shields or shining helms. While there were certainly a few Frelians who were felled in the process, the damage was, by and large, mitigated.

Amelia turned to Ewan, who was currently breathing heavily through his mouth. "That was amazing!" Then she paused. "Are you okay?"

He managed a slight smile and waved the question off. "Imagine how… _you'd_ feel… if you'd just… run a mile… in that armour of yours." Straightening, he ran his arm along his forehead, wiping off the beaded sweat. "Just give me a couple minutes to catch my breath."

And as Amelia nodded, she heard a distant roar that swelled until it seemed to come from all around them, along with the clash of metal on metal and the sound of hoof beats on grass.

The battle was joined.

"Franz…" Amelia whispered softly, and ducking and weaving as best she could through the throng, she headed for the front.

Up above, clouds began to gather.

* * *

Franz slammed the pommel of his sword into the helmet of his latest enemy, caving it in on one side and causing the soldier wearing it to jerk away with a muffled cry of pain. Disoriented as the soldier was, it was a simple matter for Franz to cut away the leather thongs of the horse's saddle, causing the knight to lose his balance and tumble to the muddy earth.

Twisting his neck to take stock of the overall situation, he hissed in pain as his neck reminded him that he was indeed wounded and it was in his best interests that he got that wound tended to. One of the arrows that had made it through had managed to cut away a strip of flesh from the side of his neck as it zipped to the ground, enough so that it _hurt_. A lot.

Willing himself to ignore the pain, the young knight caught sight of Sir Garcia carving a path through the Grad soldiers, seemingly without backup, and he tugged on Neige's reins, guiding her closer to him so he could provide support.

Using his position as a mounted knight, he was able to rain down blows upon the landlocked soldiers with greater efficiency, thus succeeding in driving them back. Once a free moment was won, he turned to the older warrior, breathing heavily.

"They're good." The bearded man rumbled.

"'S to be expected." Forde's calm voice floated over as he rode towards the two of them, wiping slickened blood of his own sword. "General Selena Fluorspar's personal Corps. They're the lot who thrashed the Guard at the Tower of Valni, you know."

"But… if we're holding our own against them…" Franz spoke slowly. "Doesn't that mean we can take the worst Grado's got to offer?"

"Maybe." Forde shrugged. "But I'll wager the Emperor's Guardsmen know their stuff, and there're still four Grad generals and their armies unaccounted for. We're in for a long hard slog any way you want to slice it."

Franz was about to reply when the area ahead of them blazed blinding white, causing Neige to rear up in confused fright. By the time he'd calmed her down again, the light had faded enough for Franz to see the after-effects of the blast – three Frelian soldiers lay a smoking, discoloured mess on the cold earth.

"What in-" Sir Garcia started.

"There." Forde's voice was cold as he pointed towards the very centre of the swamplands. Straining his eyes, Franz could barely make out a single figure on the central island, riding upon a horse.

"Is that…"

"General Selena herself."

"How did she-" Whatever else Franz was about to say was cut off as he saw the General lift a single hand up to the sky. From it an arcing bolt of pure light blazed forth, soaring up until it touched the clouds high above them.

Moving rapidly, it zipped through the clouds, arcing in seemingly random directions but always moving closer to the thick of the bunched Frelian army. Then, right above the very centre of the huddled mass, it paused for a timeless moment.

"No." Franz wasn't sure if it was him or Forde who actually said it out loud, but in the end, it proved irrelevant. None of them possessed the capability to stop the spell.

Blazing with white-hot fury, the bolt of lightning lanced down from the heavens slamming into the thick of the Frelian soldiers with the force of… of… Franz lacked any other comparison for the havoc it wreaked. Screaming men were literally tossed into the air by the sheer force of the blast, only to slam back into the earth in crumpled. Those in the very epicentre were slain in but an instant; barely aware of what had occurred to them. And for the next few seconds, panic reigned.

"**SPREAD OUT!"** He heard Prince Ephraim's bellowed command. And Franz resisted the urge to curse. Spreading out would certainly mitigate the damage done by the spell – whatever it was - but it also meant losing their defensive formation.

Whirling around, he saw that General Selena was once again raising her hand to the sky, another lightning storm surging forth, crackling madly as it headed towards-

Franz's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of a flash of red. Amelia, knee deep in the swampwaters, fending off a trio of Grad soldiers. Ewan at her side, hurling fireballs at the foe to keep them away.

Before he knew it, he had spurred Neige into a gallop, rushing madly for the two of them, praying desperately that he would not be too late.

* * *

Knocking aside the Grad soldier's sword, Amelia swung her lance around, letting the blunt end clock the head of her last opponent. He was sent sprawling, flailing about in the muddy water.

Pausing to catch her breath, Amelia turned to face Ewan, who looked a complete mess – Amelia supposed she wasn't much better. Swamps had a tendency to do that sort of thing to you. Shrugging, she began to walk over to presumably drier land –

And caught sight of a green blur a half-second before it tackled her full on, throwing her backwards several feet and landing her in the water.

Before her stunned mind could get around the processing a reaction of some sort, the area was suddenly irradiated by a brilliant light, and she had to force her eyes shut.

Finally, the weight on her body lifted, and she wearily clambered to her feet, to stare into the worried face of Franz.

"You're all right?" He questioned softly. "I thought… I thought I'd never make it in time-"

Amelia glanced past him, to where a large portion of the marshland had been blasted away by the sheer force of the spell. "What-" She began, and then a more worrisome thought struck her mind. "Ewan! Where'd he-"

"Over here." Colm's confident voice cut through and he appeared from the side, on hand wrapped around the mage's arm. "Lucky I was around, huh? You wouldn't have liked to be in the centre of… well, whatever that thing was."

"Oh, I'm grateful that you saved my life." Ewan said as he tugged at Colm's hand and succeeded in removing it from his arm. "For yanking my arm half out of it's socket, not so much."

"Not like I had any other choice." Colm shrugged. "You'd have preferred I came up to you all courteous-like and said, 'Excuse me, Master Mage, Sir, but you're about two seconds from being blown to smithereens. Perhaps a change of location is in order?' Not happening."

"General Selena's got some sort of long range spell." Franz spoke softly as he gazed towards the centre of the marsh. "We're pretty much sitting ducks like this."

"Yeah, well, there isn't a whole lot we can do until the main army gets here." Colm said with an air of irritation. "Charging into the swamp's a surefire way to get ourselves bogged down and chopped to pieces – or blasted apart, what with that crazy magic they've got brewing."

Just as Colm finished speaking, a flash of white darted over the field, and the four of them instinctively turned to see a squadron of Pegasus Knights wheeling through the air.

Colm whistled appreciatively. "Oh, good. The backup's arrived. Maybe now we can get down to _doing_ something. What took them so long, anyway? It's not like it's easy to get lost when you're a thousand feet up in the sky."

"_Colm."_ Franz's voice was insistent. The blue-haired thief paused to shoot the knight an irritable look.

"What?"

"Those Pegasi Knights aren't _ours_."

Colm frowned and looked back up to the sky, an instant before his expression turned to one of shock, along with a hint of feat.

Amelia turned as well, just in time to see the flash of pristine white wings and the knights hurling down javelins from high above. Naturally they weren't accurate, but if a single one of the projectiles hit her, Amelia would probably count herself lucky to get away with losing a limb or two.

Thankfully, the javelins missed. However, there was still a distressingly large number of mercenary flyers wheeling overhead – to say nothing of the detachment that had peeled away and were now swooping down on the four of them. Running would of course be useless – the airborne fighters were far faster than them.

"Get ready – here they come." Franz's voice was steady as he shifted into a better defensive position.

From behind her, Ewan hurled several fireballs at the incoming knights, although the resistant hides of the Pegasi mounts severely blunted the efficacy of their attacks. At that range and speed, the mage simply couldn't aim well enough to hit the actual humans atop their mounts.

Two seconds… one…

Amelia whirled, barely avoiding a heavy lance strike that would have pierced her heart. Even as she raised her lance in an attempt to retaliate, the warrior had already zipped past. Amelia ground her teeth. She couldn't use the same tactics that she used against landlocked opponents _here_…

Well, the sheer momentum that the riders carried made sudden turns all but impossible, so anyone who missed a first strike would have to wait a bit before trying for a second. That pleasing thought in mind, Amelia shifted to anticipate the approach of the next rider.

The mercenary was aiming low, apparently in a bid to trip up and disable the young lancer. Amelia sidestepped the attack and struck back – and though she missed the rider herself, she was still able to land a glancing blow on the Pegasus itself. A thin stream of red splashed upon the whiteness of the winged horse's fur.

At the edge of her vision, she caught sight of Franz facing down his own opponent. As his opponent swooped down on him, the knight twisted slightly, his right arm blurring upwards – and then the rider was unseated, slamming into the ground with bone breaking force.

Her instincts suddenly alerted her to danger and she jumped to the side – an instant before a rider, swooping down almost vertically, slammed her lance onto the spot where she had been standing a moment ago. The weapon buried itself slightly in the muddy earth, and with a grunt of exertion the rider yanked it out again, her ice-blue eyes never leaving Amelia's emerald ones.

A timeless moment was spent as the two soldiers silently sized each other up, Amelia desperately hoping that her anxiety wasn't showing on her face.

And on an unspoken signal, her foe's Pegasus burst into action, flaring its wings and lowering its head as it charged forward, the warrior's lance already stabbing forward.

Swiftly, Amelia parried the blow, but the opportunity to strike back was lost as the mount skilfully wheeled, shielding its rider with its wings. Amelia sighed, and mentally wondered if it would be a good idea to look into getting a mount herself after this fight was over.

For now, though… In close range, Amelia had better manoeuvrability than the rider, and she used that to her advantage as much as she could, ducking and weaving to try to get to a blind spot on the rider, trying to score that one crucial hit.

Suddenly, the rider's guard dropped as she struck out once more, at precisely the same instant that Amelia jabbed upwards with her lance. With simultaneous cries of pain, both fighters jerked away, clutching bleeding wounds.

One hand wrapped protectively around the gash at her midsection, Amelia instinctively reached for the vulnerary tucked in her belt. Her new breastplate had held against the blow, redirecting the spearhead into slashing her side instead of stabbing straight through her stomach. As she quaffed the healing mixture, she quickly struggled to her feet again, willing herself to ignore the pain in her side.

Then she blinked. Her opponent had vanished. Where-?

Amelia had a single instant to remember that her opponent was not landlocked before she felt a rush of wind on her back, and she desperately threw herself to the side as fast as she could.

Pain exploded in her skull, she felt a something warm and wet running down her arm, and the world spun about her as she collapsed to the ground.

* * *

As another sky rider stabbed at him, Franz shifted slightly to the right to avoid the blow and slashed at the legs of the Pegasus, earning a cry of pain and anger from the mount. Lashing out with a well-aimed kick, he was able to unseat the rider, sending her sprawling onto the ground.

Stepping back, he did a quick scan of the battlefield, and alarm spread over his features as he saw Amelia lying stunned on the ground, struggling to pull herself to her feet. Not half a step behind her, a Pegasus rider raised a spear, ready to pin Amelia to the ground with it.

He had barely taken a step in their direction when a glowing orb of energy zipped past his cheek, exploding as it crashed into the face of the distracted Pegasus Knight. The warrior let out a scream of agony and fell backwards off her horse. Meanwhile, Franz dashed over to Amelia's side.

"Amelia!" She appeared rather dizzy, she appeared to have taken a blunt blow to the head of some kind, and there was torn, ragged flesh around her right arm. But otherwise she seemed unhurt. Behind him, Ewan jogged up. Franz glanced over his shoulder.

"Thanks for the save."

"Heh." The pupil grinned and shrugged. "Times when having range in your attacks comes in handy. How's she?"

"_She_ is fine, thanks for asking." Amelia muttered wearily as she finally succeeded in standing up with Franz's help. Once up, though, she tottered, swayed. "Ugh."

Despite his concern for Amelia, Franz quickly noted the flash of movement behind her as the wounded Pegasus knight pulled herself up. In a flash, he had placed himself between her and Amelia. "Surrender." He said softly to the woman, holding his sword in a ready position.

"I don't think so." Was the calm response. Franz could see the effects of Ewan's spell across her face – flesh was scarred angry red, blood seeping down her cheek and neck and onto her tunic.

"You're wounded, and there're three of us." Franz said calmly, trying to get her to understand the situation, trying to get her to stand down.

There was a moment of hesitation, a slight dip of her lance – and then she charged, bring her weapon up in a single smooth motion.

Franz swung into action, slashing his sword horizontally to knock aside the spear. The backswing travelled high, drawing across the enemy soldier's neck.

There was a short, strangled gasp, the two of them staring at each other for a long, unbroken instant. And then she feel, silent and unmoving, to the earth.

Shaking his head, Franz turned away, back to Amelia – and Ewan, who was busy fashioning a makeshift bandage for the wound in her arm.

"Of all times for both of us to have run out of vulnerary doses…" The flame-haired mage said in a cross between a sigh and a chuckle.

"I've still got a couple shots worth left…" Franz began, but Amelia waved him off.

"No worries, Franz. The wound on my arm isn't that bad. But my head, though… I'm not sure what exactly she hit me with, but it hurts. A lot."

Franz was about to reply when he saw Colm running towards the three of them, a harried look on the rogue's face.

"Another bunch's headed this way."

Instantly Franz craned his neck, gazing up at the skies. True enough, another band of mercenary Pegasus Knights. Even as he watched, the split up into more intricate formations, preparing to renew their attack.

That is, until a volley of arrows felled five of their ranks, forcing the others to wheel back and regroup.

"Arrows…? Our force doesn't have many archers, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

And then, abruptly, _another_ set of Pegasus Knights soared into view, only this time the green colours of Frelia were clearly visible upon them. Without hesitation they dived in on the mercenaries, creating a deadly aerial dance.

Franz traded a brief smile with Amelia as, on the far crest of the hill, the faint outline of knights on horseback became visible.

The main army had arrived.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review.


	28. Bloodstains

No Longer Alone

* * *

Another day, another update. It's kinda funny how I can actually update this story pretty fast since I pay so much attention to it that I've prewritten out most scenes beforehand in my mind. My other stories? Not so much, which leads to rather long update lag times.

Of course, if I go off on a gaming binge, or find some particular interesting and time consuming website (like TVTropes…) my updating time's shot, just like that.

Anyway, hope I don't disappoint.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Another foe crumpled before him, his stomach torn open. Franz spared him but the slightest of glances as he leapt over the body.

All around him the battle thundered, soldiers on both sides each grappling for an advantage. The arrival of the backup forces, along with the Fluorspar having apparently spent all of… well, whatever those long range lightning spells were, had encouraged Ephraim to the point where he had ordered a full on charge. The sooner the Grad troops were routed, the better.

And of course, the sooner their commander was removed from the fight, the faster the Grad soldiers would capitulate. Knocking aside another soldier that had appeared in front of him, glaring at the tiny islet in which General Selena waited atop her mount, calmly assessing the battle.

Franz wasn't a fool – he knew he wouldn't stand a chance in hell going up against the General herself. But he _could_ clear a path towards her and let those more skilled than him try to take her down.

Of course, the opposing soldiers were doing everything they could to prevent such a thing from occurring… The cavalier jerked back from a high slash from another soldier's sword, countering with a low attack of his own. His opponent was skilled enough to parry the strike, and Franz shifted his weight, seeking another angle, an opening.

And then an arrow embedded itself in the soldier's leg, causing a cry of pain. Taking advantage of this, Franz managed to slash down on the enemy soldier's right arm, forcing the sword of out his hand.

As the wounded soldier stumbled and collapsed, Franz shifted his gaze to the side, catching side of Neimi, in the process of grabbing another arrow from her quiver. The young archer looked pale, exhausted.

Taking advantage of the brief reprieve, Franz quickly cast about the battlefield for signs of others – Amelia, his brother, Prince Ephraim. No one. All probably engaged in their own life and death struggles.

Hearing the sound of splashing water, he noted that Neimi was running up to meet him. "Neimi?" He questioned. "Anything the matter?"

"N, no." The archer shook her head. "I just thought… we should stick together, you know? Strength in numbers, and all that."

Privately, Franz could ruminate on a fair number of reasons why a melee-focused warrior such as himself would not want to be facing the same target as an archer, but he kept his mouth shut. "Okay." He nodded. "Let's try to find the others."

_Come to think of it, where's Amelia?_

* * *

Amelia slammed the butt of her spear into another soldier. There was a wet 'splurtch!' sound and the metal end of her weapon tore through the Grad warrior's stomach. The soldier staggered back and collapsed, flopping limply to the ground.

Wincing, Amelia turned away quickly. _I… that wasn't supposed to happen. _So much for non-sharp ends of weapons being any less lethal than the… well, the sharp ends. The battle wasn't giving her a lot of time to think things through properly.

_Where was Franz?_ The thing about the main army was that there was a whole lot more of soldiers in the area, and after darting away from an enemy attack, the press of soldiers had separated the two of them. Again.

Hopping over a body sprawled in front of her – the mud and blood caking the corpse made it difficult to tell which side he had been fighting for, and continued pressing onwards. None of the Grads had singled her out thus far, which both helped and hurt. Helped because if they had decided to properly focus on her she'd probably be killed in short order, and hurt because that meant any kills she scored in the course of fighting were deliberate ambushes.

_This is a war. No place for weakness._ She'd drummed that mantra into her own head countless times since the fighting began. Silently she wondered if doing that was ever going to help one whit.

The battle, as far as she could tell, was going well. The Grad soldiers had entrenched themselves well enough that the going was hard – but nevertheless, the Frelian troops were slowly but surely grinding their way through the Grad lines.

She managed to catch another soldier unawares and hastily disarmed him by stabbing at his arm. Silently, she wondered if somehow gaining the ability to look in multiple directions at the same time would be useful. Attacks could come from _anywhere_.

As if to punctuate the point, an arrow zipped by her face, so close that she could feel the tiny brush of wind as the air parted for the weapon. A quick brush of her cheek with her hand confirmed that the projectile hadn't actually touched her and she quickly cast about for the source before the archer could try again.

There! Crouching amongst the rocks, was the person slowly, deliberately drawing another arrow from his back. Amelia frowned. She'd learned from Neimi that archers were valued for being able to fire either very accurately or very quickly. The arrow had missed her, and he didn't seem to be particularly hurried…

She was about to move into a defensive position when someone slammed into her from behind with enough force to take her off her feet. Another arrow shot went wide. Muttering a short expletive under her breath, she half-turned, trying to shove the person – the _body_, the helmet was cracked, blood oozing from the holes – away from her. And above her, another arrow shot through the air.

Okay, chances are she hadn't been the archer's target at all, if his lack of adjusting aim for her new position was anything to go by. Well, maybe that meant she could catch him by surprise… Finally succeeding in rolling the corpse away, she shakily clambered to her feet.

Circling around slightly and trying not to get the archer's attention, the young lancer quickly covered the distance between the two of them, using her lighter weight to cross the treacherous marshlands. Just a couple more seconds…

And abruptly the world exploded. Crimson flame surged up all over the area, lances of searing heat blasting their way through Amelia's right leg. With a scream of agony the recruit tumbled to the cold earth, all her ability to think, feel, reason, focus, understand, all pinned to the fiery sensations erupting from her calf, her thigh, her foot.

_No…__ no Fire spell…never this strong…_ she thought dimly. She couldn't even summon up the strength to scream again, to let the hurt out, all she could do was focus on breathing, feel the tears stream down her cheeks, feel the supernaturally induced heat from the surroundings fade away as quickly as it had come-

"I am sorry. I had intended for the kill to be immediate, so as to spare you the agony." A clipped, professional voice sounded behind her, but it took several seconds for Amelia to even realize that someone was talking. All she could think about was the pain, the damnable, soul rending, unending, mind-numbing _pain_…

But even then a distant corner of her mind registered the voice – she'd heard it only once, about an hour ago, but she could recognize it all the same, it was the leader of the Grad army, the Fluorspar, General Selena, and Amelia realized that she was about to die.

* * *

Knocking aside another Grad's weapon, Franz thrust his dagger in a downwards stab, piercing the unfortunate soldier's knee. Shifting his weight, he kicked upwards, sending the wounded fighter sprawling.

_I spare their lives… and I end up crippling them so badly they'll likely never walk again__._ Franz reflected with some bitterness as he moved on, leaving the fallen soldier where he lay. _Is that truly mercy?_

All around him lay the dead and the dying. Men and women screaming for help, for water, for their mother, for death. Dozens he could do nothing more for than simply jumping over their shattered bodies, sometimes even being forced into duelling others over the bloody corpses. Behind the front lines were the healers, Natasha amongst them, trying desperately to cope with the ever increasing number of casualties, trying to heal, to help.

And all he could do – all he had _ever_ done, was fight.

Franz shook his head, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. As if he really needed more of a reminder that war stunk anyway…

Turning, he noted Neimi trying her best to keep up with him while simultaneously trying to shoot at enemy archers that were harassing the Frelian Pegasus Knights. He was about to double back slightly, perhaps provide some sort of cover or support for the gentle archer, when he saw his brother.

Lying on the ground. Bleeding.

He wasn't aware of breaking stride, changing course, of _doing_ anything, but several seconds later Franz found himself kneeling over the fallen form of Forde, trying to assess the damages.

"Forde!"

"Hey." His brother was still conscious, still cracking his trademark grin. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

. "Brother, you've – you're…" Franz sputtered, unconsciously tugging at the vulnerary at his belt

"Oh? Oh." The crimson clad knight lifted his head slightly to glance down at the wound on his chest, still leaking dark blood. "Yeah, knocked the wind out of me for a bit. It's not bad – nothing I can't live through. And I made the poor sap pay for it too." He gestured towards a limp form lying several meters away.

"No! That's not it… that's…" Franz's mind was drawing a blank as he mechanically administered first aid to his brother, his stunned mind trying to process the simple fact.

Forde. _Wounded._

His brother didn't get wounded. It was ridiculous. He was _Forde_, part of Lord Ephraim's personal retinue, one of the most skilled knights on all Magvel. Every battle they were in he threw himself into the thick of the melee alongside Kyle, emerging without so much as a scratch. His armour may be dinged a bit, sure, but…

His brother. Wounded.

Trying not to think about it, Franz finished his work and sat back slightly. "That should do it." He said softly.

Forde was about to make a reply when his expression froze, eyes staring at something behind Franz.

The green knight was already rising before he knew it, already bringing his sword up in a diagonal slash, The soldier wasn't expecting resistance, had expected an easy kill, and Franz effortlessly cut his belly open.

Wincing at the exertion, Franz stumbled back slightly. Neimi had finally managed to reach him and stood panting. "Franz…" She muttered. "You run too fast."

A flash of pale white and Vanessa had landed, too, a cut alongside one arm. Forde managed to sit up enough to look her in the eye. "Hey. How're things up there?"

She sighed. "Rather hectic, to say the least. We've no idea where the Pegasus mercenaries came from. At least they're not using Wyverns as well."

Forde shook his head wearily. "Well, no use standing around here. What say we get back to the battle?"

Franz glanced worriedly at his brother's wound. Forde evidently caught the look, for he rolled his eyes. "Look, everyone on the battlefield gets hurt sooner or later. If you'd like I could show you all the scars I've got over the years – that'll please the ladies, I'm sure, but seriously, I'll be fine."

_Yeah… yeah, he's right._ Franz blew out a tiny breath of air and managed a slight smile. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

When the spell had hit her, Amelia had dropped her lance, and now she fumbled desperately around for it, her eyes too obscured by her tears of pain for her to properly see where it was – not that it would really have helped a bit, she couldn't even stand, but if she was going to die she wanted a weapon in a hands.

She was sprawled facedown and so she couldn't see the General behind her, couldn't see how close she was to completing her next spell of whatever it was, but Amelia knew it would all be over in a matter of seconds-

"General Selena!" There was a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye, the wet _thunk!_ of a lance impaling something, the sound of a horse's scream –

Surprise coursed through her – what was happening? Had someone saved her? For a moment – an all too brief moment – she forgot her pain and, with her left arm, managed to roll herself over so she could look at what was going on.

Ephraim. Prince Ephraim, his steel lance coated in blood, was standing over the fallen mount of Genera Selena. The Fluorspar herself had managed to jump nimbly off and was standing a meter away, one outstretched already glowing with magic.

"Lord Ephraim…" General Selena was speaking in the slow, controlled voice of someone mentally assessing the situation.

"General Selena, I implore you to surrender." The prince of Renais shifted his lance in his hands, adjusting the angle slightly. "There is something you must know. Emperor Vigarde is-"

"Insane. Corrupted by the darkness flowing from whatever 'Dark Stone' the alchemists in the capital have devised. I know." Amelia felt her heart skip a beat. Insane? Corrupted? What in the world…?

"You _know_?" Ephraim's voice rose in outrage. "You _know_, and yet you continue to serve him? To follow the orders of a madman?"

"He is my liege lord, whom I have sworn fealty to. There is nothing else. Prepare yourself, prince Ephraim." A tiny ball of fire sprouted from her outstretched fingers, billowing towards the turquoise-haired lord.

Ephraim batted the fireball away into the brush with his spear – and as the tiny fireball hit the earth it exploded into a raging column of flame, nearly two meters high. Amelia winced at that. Considering the effects of the spell, she should probably have counted herself lucky getting away with only a torched leg. And on that note… she glanced down at her wounded leg and let out a tiny gasp of shock.

The long boot she'd worn into battle had been all but blasted away, though a few ragged, melted strips still clung to her skin. Large patches of dead, blackened skin were all over the place, and wherever wasn't black was as a fiery red, almost as if the spell itself had surged into her skin, still heating it supernaturally. She could see blood on the ground around her, although she couldn't detect any bleeding. Just then a fresh wave of pain stabbed through the leg, causing her to grit her teeth, letting out tiny whimpers of agony, feeling more stinging tears pool up, letting them drip onto her breastplate.

A war cry from Ephraim called her attention back to the battle. The lancefighter had charged, his weapon stabbing out the Fluorspar, who was able to dodge – just barely. Another blast of flame that Ephraim diverted with his weapon, another strike with his lance, and the two combatants continued in their deadly dance, neither side able to score a blow on the other.

Something welled up in Amelia, telling her that should help. But there was no way she could stand, much less walk, in those conditions. But she couldn't just sit there and do _nothing_. Well, she thought, at least I can find my lance, and she quickly began casting about for her weapon.

There! Lying slightly hidden amongst a thick patch of reeds. Gritting her teeth, Amelia leaned over, reaching out as far as she could to fumble at the thick cord she'd tied to the end of her weapon. With short tugs and yanks she was able to draw the weapon closer to her, until she finally grasped the thin metal shaft in her hands once more.

Suddenly, there was another blaze of light and energy, but this one was different, this bore the distinct sound of something _breaking_, and pieces of fragmented metal, glowing red hot, landed all over the area.

Quickly she looked back to the battle between the two powerful warriors – and she saw Prince Ephraim, eyes wide in shock and – was it horror? She couldn't tell – staring down at the remnants of his broken weapon in his hands. Apparently it wasn't very durable against spells as powerful as the one General Selena had been fielding.

The blonde spellcaster shook her head slightly. "An unfortunate turn. I am sorry, but it's over." More energy began to gather to her palms

Later Amelia would claim it was pure instinct, nothing more. An understanding of the situation that he had no weapon and needed one, that she had a weapon but couldn't use it, and that was really all there was to it.

"**MILORD**!" She yelled at the top of her lungs. The prince of Renais glanced over at the same instant that she swung her arm up in an arc, tossing the gleaming metal weapon over into the air in his direction.

The Fluorspar caught the exchange, and reacted quickly, thrusting her arm out and firing off another one of the super fireballs, but Ephraim threw himself into a dive, somehow managing to grab the her lance in the process, and as he rose up, the fireball exploded at his back. Another quick flash of movement and –

General Selena, the Fluorspar of the Grado Imperial Army, stared down at the weapon piercing her chest, her eyes dimming. She took a single step back, staggering, opened her mouth and said something Amelia couldn't hear – and fell.

The prince shook his head, walked over, and yanked the gleaming implement from where he had stabbed her with it, wiping off the blood from the head with his cape as he did so. All around them, the sound of battle was drawing to a sudden, surprised halt as more and more Grad soldiers began to register the fact that their leader was dead.

Then Ephraim walked over to Amelia and dropped her lance by her side. "Thanks for the save, recruit." He said briefly. "Just stay here and I'll get a healer to look to your leg soon enough." He sighed. "The battle's all but over, anyway."

And as he walked off, the remaining Grad soldiers began dropping their weapons and surrendering.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Hmm. Shorter than usual. Ah, well. Thanks for reading, please review.


	29. Doubt

No Longer Alone

* * *

Another day, another chapter. As always, I hope I provide you with a good read.

Also, I've broken the 100,000 words barrier as of the last update. Yay me. I guess.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Ah, there you are." Forde's easy voice floated up to Franz at the same time the young knight glanced up and saw his brother approaching. "I see you took my advice to heart."

Franz gave a low chuckle. "Yeah, I found this stream down here that fed to the marshes. The water here doesn't run that fast, so there're still a few fishes hanging around."

"What, no lure?" Forde noted as he reached the grassy bank and settled himself down on it.

"There's enough sun up there," Franz indicated the sky, which had cleared of the clouds that had. "Fish sometimes just go for the flashing metal of the hook."

As if on cue, the rod jerked in Franz's hand and his grip tightened. After struggling with the fish for a few seconds, Franz managed to haul it out of the water.

"Hm. Good size." The knight noted as the fish flopped about desperately on land. Bending over his catch, he quickly yanked the hook out of the fish's mouth and tossed the silver creature back into the waters, whereupon it vanished rapidly.

"Catch and release." Forde sighed. "Ah, well, probably wouldn't have tasted very good anyway."

"The fish in the area are… well, they're pretty soggy and tasteless – certainly not something you'd willingly cook up for a meal." Franz noted as he cast the line back out into the water. "I'm mostly doing this to strengthen my lance arm."

"Speaking of which," Forde gave a pointed look to the fishing rod Franz was holding. "Isn't that the spear I broke the head off of in the training session the other day?"

"Yeah, I figured no one was going to miss it so I convinced the quartermaster to give it to me. A couple of lengths of good twine, a hook, and I've got myself an impromptu rod."

"And here I thought the point of a hobby was free yourself from all worries and thoughts about your job." The older knight said with an amused air.

The younger knight simply shrugged. "It's still plenty relaxing, if that's what you're asking. In fact, until you showed up I was just listening to the sound of the place – the bubbling of the stream, the wind in the grass…" A gentle smile formed. "Makes me feel at peace."

The conversation ended on that note and the two brothers simply sat there for several more minutes, enjoying the quiet and the company of each other.

And then, "What about the eels? I hear the eels around here taste great in a stew."

* * *

"And… there." Natasha smiled up at the lancer. "That should just about do it."

"Thank you." Amelia smiled gratefully. Shortly after the fight had ended, several healers had hurried over to Amelia. After taking one look at her scorched leg it had been obvious that basic staves and curative spells wouldn't help much beyond stemming the bleeding and negating the pain. After getting a couple of nearby soldiers to carry her back to the base camp – Amelia had wanted to walk on her own volition but the eldest of the healers had expressly forbidden it – she'd lain in a cot in the medical area for a while, methodically picking away the strips of melted leather that still clung to her skin until Natasha had hurried over to see her.

After focusing on a stronger healing spell to repair the worst of the damage – an act which had left the gentle cleric visibly tired out – she'd quickly unwound a very long roll of bandages, soaking them in a healing salve meant specifically to cure burn damage, and them quickly but meticulously bandaged Amelia's legs.

"Now, the way I bound your leg means you might have trouble walking." Natasha continued speaking in an even tone as she worked on Amelia's legs. "The bandages should stay for about a week, and I'll help you change them every other day. You'll want plenty of rest and water, and try not to put too much weight on the leg for a while – you suffered some muscle injuries so it'll be harder for you to heal if you exert yourself. And of course it'll be a bit stiff when the bandages come off, but that won't last."

"Okay, I'll…." Amelia yawned. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I forgot – you were just in a battle. You must be exhausted."

Amelia nodded wearily. "Nobody's gonna mind if I just pass out here, right?"

Natasha chuckled. "Of course not. This is medical ward. You're _supposed_ to rest here."

Another slight nod, and Amelia leaned back into the soft material of her cot, she closed her eyes and let the cool darkness wash over her.

* * *

The sun was starting to set when Franz and Forde returned to camp, the latter clutching tightly onto a soggy bag in his right hand.

"Do you actually even know how to make eel stew?" Franz questioned as he placed his makeshift fishing pole away.

"I'm a fast learner. And I'm sure _someone_ in the army's got to know. Maybe Amelia. She's a Grad native, so-"

"She comes from _Silva_! That's practically the other end of the country! Why would she know anything about marshland cooking?"

"Just a thought. Well, the eels aren't getting any fresher, so I'd best start asking around." Forde turned and started to head off.

"Hang on." At his elder brother's questioning gaze. "Shouldn't you… you know, get your wound looked at? I know you drank a vulnerary dose earlier, but…"

Forde sighed. "Normally it's the elder sibling that's overprotective. It's just a scratch, Franz. I'll be fine. It'll be all healed up by the time we take Castle Renais."

Shaking his head, Franz ducked into his tent and emerged several moments later. Then he set off again, looking for Natasha.

He didn't have to look long. She was at the centre of the camp, resting on a long near the evening campfire, seeking its warmth to counter the approaching chill of night.

"Natasha!" She turned at his call, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Oh, Franz. How are you? I haven't seen you since we left Kiris."

"I'm fine. Actually, I came to give you this. I said I'd make you a satchel to use, remember?" With a small smile, he handed it over to her.

Accepting the present, Natasha held it lightly, as if it were some kind of delicate creature instead of… well, the sturdy travel-pack Franz had designed it to be. Slowly, she turned it over in her hands, looking it over.

"I, uh, I made it more lightweight than mine, and there're more compartments because… well, I figured you'd want them separate for all the potions and salves you carry." Franz wasn't sure on how to go about listing the features of the satchel without sounding like he was showing off about how he was able to make it.

"It's wonderful, Franz." Natasha finally said, a soft smile playing over her features as she slipped the strap over her shoulder. "I'll be sure to cherish it."

"Heh. Thanks." The cavalier sighed. "I tried to complete it a bit faster than I did my own – I hope…. I hope you'll find it useful."

"I'm sure I will." The encouraging expression on the cleric's face suddenly changed into a wince of pain. "Ah! Ow…"

"Hm?" Alert, Franz looked around for any sign of a threat. "Sister Natasha? What's wrong?"

Clearly embarrassed, the cleric indicated the back of her head. "N-nothing. It's just… my hair…"

"Oh, I see." Looking closer, Franz could see that her hair had gotten tangled up in the clip she wore. "Just hang on a second. I'll get it."

After carefully removing the offending clip, he stepped back with a look of satisfaction that quickly changed to a small frown. "Well, it's gone, but… your hair's pretty snarled up now."

"Oh…" Hesitantly, the cleric reached up to caress her tangled hair lightly. "W- well, it's no big deal. I can fix it myself later-"

"No, wait." Reaching into his own pack, Franz drew out a small fine-tooth comb. "I can do it."

Natasha hesitated for a moment before nodding gratefully and shifting in her seat so that Franz could reach over and comb her hair properly. Standing over her, he quickly began his work.

* * *

Suddenly, Amelia found herself awake again for no discernable reason. With a slight mumble protest, she stretched herself, yawning and reaching out to rub at her eyes.

"Hm? Oh, you're awake."

That voice? Quickly, she turned over. "G- general Duessel!" Instinctively she tried to scramble to her feet so that she could salute him – an act that was quickly hampered by her stiff leg.

"No, at ease." The general said before she could pull herself to attention. "I was just about to leave anyway after I saw you sleeping."

"Huh?" Amelia blinked as she pulled herself into a sitting position. "General Duessel… you mean… you came to see how I was doing?"

"Well… yes. Prince Ephraim was rather descriptive of the wounds you had suffered in the last battle, as well as the role you played in helping us defeat Selena."

Amelia didn't miss the familiar term Duessel used for the Fluorspar. He must have hoped that she could be compelled to surrender. She almost opened her mouth to ask him about how he felt, how he dealt with it all, but restrained herself quickly. It just wasn't the sort of thing you asked a General. So instead she said, "B – but I'm just a regular soldier. I'm not even a knight!"

The Obisidian folded his arms, looking mildly amused. "Perhaps. And?"

"And…" Amelia sighed, looking away. "There's no need for you to care so much about me."

Duessel nodded. "I'd wager you're right, lass. You're a soldier out there on the front lines. You've survived up until now, but there's no guarantee you'll live through the next fight. Or the next. Or the next."

Amelia didn't respond.

"I've gotten attached to many other soldiers in my time. Some was when I was just a recruit, making my way up the ranks. Others were squires I took under my wing, soldiers who showed potential and promise. Still others were higher ranking officers that came to view me as equals as I was promoted and proved my worth on the field." The Obisidian looked out towards the entrance of the tent. "Most of them are dead now. And every time I hear about the deaths of those I know, those I knew, those I _cared_ about…" He sighed and slumped. "It hurts, Amelia. It hurts a lot."

Amelia didn't know what to say. After a few long moments of silence, she began to feel as if the silence was stifling enough to say the first thing that came to mind. "If so, then… wouldn't it be easier not to let yourself be hurt? Not to care about others?"

The aged general gave her a knowing look. "Really now? Well then, let me ask you, Amelia, that Renaitian knight you've befriended-"

"Franz." She said automatically.

"Yes, Franz. Would you give up your friendship with him?"

Amelia shook her head. "No. Not for the world." Then, after a small pause, she continued, "I'm not sure I _could_, even if I tried."

"Then you already know the answer. Even if their loss causes you grief and sorrow, in the end, the relationship is _worth_ it." Then he chuckled. "And now, getting back to the original question of why I would come in and check up on a random field recruit – you're certainly among the more spirited of the soldiers I've known. That and, well… fellow Grads aren't exactly common in this army."

A silence descended upon the two of them for several moments until the general broke it with a grunt and stood. "Well, I really should be going. Prince Ephraim is going to want my help with invading the capital." His weary expression said what no words could as he slowly walked out of the tent.

Amelia was just laying herself back on the cot went the tent flap was flung open and Franz practically dashed into the room, followed closely by a bemused Natasha.

"Franz!" She said, brightening up. "I haven't seen you since the midway through the fight."

He nodded, a look of guilt in his eyes. "Amelia… your leg…"

She glanced over to the bandaged limb. "Yeah, it hurt really bad earlier, but it's all right now, thanks to Natasha."

The young knight slumped over slightly. "I didn't even know… if Natasha hadn't mentioned it to me… I wasn't even _there_."

Amelia chuckled. "It's no big deal Franz. It's fine now. Although I _do_ seem to get wounded in the leg a lot."

Franz gazed at her with an unfamiliar expression on his face – was it frustration? – and after a moment he moved back slightly. "It doesn't hurt anymore?"

"No, not really." Amelia shrugged. "A dull ache, and sometimes it itches, but yeah, it's mostly fine."

Meanwhile, Natasha stepped over to Amelia and pulled a tiny bottle out of the satchel at her side. Amelia glanced over at the pack. Odd, she didn't recall Natasha keeping a satchel with her…

As the cleric administered the medicine to Amelia's leg again, Franz sat on the chair next to her. "… Amelia… how'd you get the wound anyway? Natasha told me she didn't know."

Amelia shrugged and began recounting the events that had started with the Fluorspar hitting her with a glancing blow (given the power behind the attack, it _had_ to have been a glancing blow or Amelia wouldn't have survived it) up to Ephraim defeating General Selena. After completing the story, Amelia closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Something General Selena said before the fight with Lord Ephraim… she _knew_ that something had gone wrong with Emperor Vigarde's mind… something about the 'darkness' corrupting him. But she still sided with him." When her eyes opened again, they were set into an expression of confused anger. "Why? Why would someone willingly follow something they know isn't right? She didn't have to die. She could've surrendered… she could have _helped_ us find some way to end this war even quicker."

Franz shook his head. "I… I'm not sure. I know I have a loyalty to Renais. It's… I want to believe that my country's just and fair and all that, but if it isn't… If it isn't… it's still really all I have, isn't it? It's my _country_. It's where I was born and raised…" Then he closed his eyes and chuckled bitterly. "But why am I telling you this, Amelia? You know the pain of fighting against your own country better than I ever could."

"I…" Amelia began. "I'd been taught that people in Frelia and Renais were cruel and heartless. It was _easy_ to believe that. I _wanted_ to believe that. It would make fighting against you so much easier if I could justify it all as the right thing. But I couldn't do that. Nothing you – any of you – did seemed like the actions of someone cold and heartless."

"Well, you were a prisoner of war almost from the moment we met. It's not like we're going to do anything to people who've surrendered."

"Uh, actually," Amelia reached up to scratch at the neckline of her tunic. "They more or less told us that you'd horribly torture any prisoners you found, and then make us serve as slaves in your palace… or something like that." Even now, recounting that snippet seemed hazy and unreal to Amelia, like something from a bizarre alternate reality. Had she truly once believed those things? Franz was now wearing odd expression, like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or become mad.

Amelia folded her arms and looked away. "So now… why is it so difficult for me to believe that Grado is doing the wrong thing? Why _don't_ I want to believe it?" She paused. "The whole reason… the whole _reason_ I wanted to join your side was because of… well, _you_, Franz. You were so kind to me… you helped me when I was helpless, cared for me… I knew that… well, if I wanted to join the Frelian army it'd be because I'd have someone I could turn to. People like you, Natasha, and General Duessel too, they joined because they really had no other choice. You were branded a deserter and traitor before you'd actually done anything." She closed her eyes, one hand moving to cover them. "If you hadn't shown up, if I hadn't been at Fort Rigwald… if I'd seen Grado using monsters, mistreating civilians, things I _know_ are wrong… would I still be able to leave them? Could I still do what I believed, what I _knew_ was the right thing?"

For a moment, she hung there, suspended on the sea of her own thoughts. Visions of her fighting alongside the twisted monstrosities, heeding orders to continue the invasion of the continent, to seek out and destroy the Sacred Stones, to hunt down Lord Ephraim and Princess Eirika… it all seemed so real, so vivid to her, she could _see_ herself partaking in these atrocities-

"What are you talking about?" The gentle, reassuring voice threaded its way like a cool stream through her mind, washing away the dark thoughts. "The Amelia _I_ know wouldn't condone such things. Never in a million years." Franz paused, his smile quirking a bit. "Well, it'd probably have taken you a bit longer to realize that something was very, very wrong with the whole affair, but in the end, once you realized just what was going on, you'd never have just stood idly by. You'd have done something about it – left them, spoke out, whatever. Even if it didn't mean that you'd join up with us – you'd still never have let it stand. I _know_ you wouldn't." The expression on his face was of complete sincerity and trust – and Amelia found herself speechless.

"How?" She finally found her voice. "How could you have such faith in me, Franz? How could you know what I would do?"

"Because I know you." The way he spoke… the way he _behaved_… it was like this was a question so utterly simple, as if the matter was closed, as if it had never been opened. "Because you've talked to me before, about how no matter what, at the end of everything else, you wanted to believe that you were doing the right thing. Because I've seen your face grow wild with fury at the mere mention of injustice, of deep wrongs, or ancient wounds that time can't heal. Because, even now, you can agonize and torment yourself over this, wondering if you could do the right thing. Because after the fighting ends, after you take off your armour and put away your weapon, you are still _Amelia_, the simple, honest, sincere girl I met back in Fort Rigwald, and you would not sit back and do nothing because of who you are."

Amelia was stunned. To think that Franz would trust her this much… that he could dismiss such concerns of hers as absurd… A distant part of her even felt indignant, unhappy that such pressing concerns of hers could be taken by him, glanced at, and summarily blown to the wind. But then she was forced to ask herself if her fears and worries really were baseless after all. She shook her head.

"Thanks for believing in me." She said softly. The thoughts and beliefs in her head was still in a chaotic flux, but at the least, at the very least, she had someone who could trust in her, and in whom she could cling on too as well.

Franz let out a low chuckle. "Well, thanks for being the sort of the person that I can believe in."

Before anything else could be said, Kyle appeared in the doorway. "Oh, there you are, Franz. Lord Ephraim wants and audience with us."

"Hm? Oh, all right. I'm on my way." Standing and stretching slightly, Franz gave a reassuring look to Amelia.

"Amelia… I know you're still confused and anxious about all this. It's okay if you feel you have trouble believing in yourself right now. You can believe in me, can't you? And _I_ believe in _you_. So if you can't trust in your belief of yourself, then trust in mine."

"Yeah, that didn't come out awkward sounding at all." Amelia laughed. "I know what you mean, though. Thanks." She smiled at him as he nodded and left the room.

* * *

As soon as Franz stepped out of the tent, the smile vanished from his face, to be replaced by a dark frown.

_I wasn't there._ That thought remained foremost in his mind as he followed Kyle to where Prince Ephraim was holding conference. _I wasn't there when Amelia was wounded, when she __**needed**__ me the most._

Damn it all, he hadn't even known she had been hurt until Natasha had mentioned that she should really be going to check up on Amelia. He had forgotten about her, forgotten that he was supposed to be protecting her!

He let out a long, slow breath and pressed a hand to his forehead. _All right, Franz. Get a grip. No sense berating yourself over this. Just make sure next time you stick as close to her as possible. Don't let her out of your sight, don't mess up._ Taking another deep breath, he shook his head, and looked up at the Prince as he approached camp.

"Prince Ephraim? You called for me, milord?"

Ephraim looked up and nodded. "Ah, Franz. You're here."

Spreading out a map of the surrounding area, he indicated a portion of grassland northeast of their current position. "The scouts have just returned from their, well, scouting. Reports are unanimous on a rather large force of monsters making their way over here. They'll be within sighting distance of the campsite by nightfall."

Breaking away from the map, he clasped his hands at the back of his head and looked around the table with a raised eyebrow. "All right, any suggestions?"

Forde, resting near the back, raised a hand. "Marshall a force and beat the stuffing out of them?"

"Good, I like that one. All in favour?"

Franz exchanged a glance with Kyle, who shrugged, and then they both nodded, along with everyone else present.

"It's settled, then. Get everyone battle-worthy in full battle order and ready to march by the passing of the fourth watch. Dismissed."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Yes, this fight scene that is about to occur did not occur in the actual game. What can I say? I'm a wild rebel.

Thanks for reading, please review.


	30. Questions

No Longer Alone

* * *

Nothing much to say, except the deluge of videogames is taking away writing time.

This puts my story at 30 chapters, on par with my other longest story in terms of chapters, which I already beat in terms of words. One can only wonder how much longer this thing has to go…

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Amelia emerged from the medical tent, one arm wrapped around a makeshift crutch for support.

"Who knew walking with a stiff leg could be such a bother?" She mumbled to herself as she hobbled down towards the campfire.

The flurry of activity around the entire campsite was unmistakable – shouts to get into formation, the hurried saddling of the warhorses, the atmosphere of mixed fear and anticipation that flowed through the area.

There was going to be a battle soon.

"Amelia!" Franz was already walking up to her, in the process of buckling his sword to his side. "There's been a sighting of a large group of the monsters heading this way. So, well, we're heading out to fight them."

"Oh." She nodded. Then she frowned. If there had been a large monster group in the vicinity, then why hadn't General Selena commandeered them as part of the defensive force? It would have certainly helped them stave off the Frelian Army…

Returning to the present, she gazed down at her bandaged leg. "…Well, I guess I could sit at the sidelines and cheer you on." She raised an eyebrow as she returned her gaze to Franz.

The young knight chuckled at that. "Sister Natasha's heading out with the task force – she told me to tell you to get some rest while we're away."

Amelia sighed. "If it wasn't for this stupid injury-"

"If you push yourself too hard now, you won't even have healed by the time we're fighting to take the capital itself. Don't worry – you know we won't let ourselves get beaten by some monsters."

"Yeah, I know." Amelia's smile was crooked. "After all, the Frelian Army has Sir Franz, brave defender of justice and truth. How _could_ they lose?"

Franz grinned slightly at that before turning away. Amelia watched him take two steps before she called out.

"Franz!"

Halting in midstep, he turned back to face her.

She bit her lip. "Stay safe."

He nodded once. "I will."

And then he was gone.

* * *

After getting some rest, Amelia came to the decision that she wanted a bit more fresh air than the interior of the med tent was able to provide, and so she gamely hobbled out into the sunlight, noting that a sizable number of the soldiers were still in camp.

"Guess they don't consider the monster swarm _that_ big a threat." She mumbled to herself as she settled herself down on a bench.

"That, or they'd prefer to leave a vanguard behind so the base of operations isn't entirely defenceless should a surprise attack occur."

Amelia wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to jump from a sitting position, but clearly she'd done it somehow, because she was now standing and saluting the Obsidian. A distant part of her mind wondered how it was possible for him to be able to sneak up on her – and in full body armour, no less!

"At ease." Duessel nodded as he strode past her. "How is your leg feeling?"

"Much better, sir." It was actually starting to get very itchy, but the general didn't need to know that.

"Ah. Well, you'd best be prepared. Your skin should start itching soon – that's one of the signs that it's healing itself, which is good, but it's nigh unbearable while it lasts." Duessel said in a matter of fact tone as he settled himself onto the bench.

"Uh… Oh. T- thank you for telling me that, sir." How many times had the General initiated a conversation with her? And up until now, she still got tongue-tied in his presence, at least for a while.

After a momentary pause, she looked up again. "General, I'm sorry if this is out of bounds, but… what are you doing here? Shouldn't… shouldn't you be out there at the front."

"Hrmph. Well, as I was saying, Prince Ephraim decided to exercise caution," he paused. "For once. Anyway, he left half the standing army back here to keep watch, because, after all, we rushed straight out to marshlands without first ensuring that there wasn't any hostile Grad forces outside of general Selena's troops." Amelia frowned. For a moment, the general's face had shown… well, not frustration, exactly. More like puzzlement, as if there were some issue nagging at him he just couldn't quite figure out…

"And," Duessel shrugged. "He appointed me nominal commander of the base camp until he returns. As a matter of fact, I've just finished a tour and review of our base camp." His aged face creased into a smile. "Managed to find and fix three issues with out defensive perimeter already, too."

"That's… uh, that's good, sir. General." Amelia cast her gaze down.

Another silence followed, until the Obsidian spoke up again. "Amelia… I hesitate to pry, but… do you have something against me?"

"Huh? Wha – I, _**NO**_!" Amelia sputtered. "Of course not! Why would you even think that?"

The General blinked, sat back, and shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "Well, it's just that whenever I happen to strike up a conversation with you, you always seem… withdrawn. Yet with most anyone else – take that Renaitian knight, for example, you're always lively and outgoing. Now, I may be rather off base here, I'm really not very good at talking to people, but it just seems like… well, you're distancing yourself from me."

Amelia sighed and rubbed the back of her head. "But… you're a general. I'm just a recruit, sir. It's… I shouldn't behave casually around you. I need to respect your rank, don't I?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, _technically_ I really don't have a rank anymore. I'm no longer a part of the Grado army, and while I've been accepted into the Frelian army on at least a temporary basis, Prince Ephraim really doesn't have the authority to make me a general – not without King Hayden or at least Prince Innes present. It _is_ their army, after all."

"But still…"

"And furthermore, even if I were to accept the premise of one needing to show respect to one's superiors, many of the other soldiers are able to display the proper decorum without being as withdrawn as you are."

She looked away, eyes downcast. "General, I… When I was young, I always loved to hear stories about the legendary Obsidian. Stories of you stopping bandit raids, facing down evil… the knight in shining armour, as it were. So well, meeting you in person… I was a little overwhelmed. I still am, I guess."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected his response to be, but it probably wasn't a long sigh escaping the aged warrior's throat. After settling down somewhat, Duessel shook his head.

"Lass, I don't want to destroy any illusions of yours, but… well, I'm still human. I make mistakes. I've had failures. I've led my men wrongly, made the wrong call, gave the wrong order... good men have died in times and places where I could've done something to prevent it."

"But… but you've still done so much! More than I could ever hope to achieve. And you're one of the best warriors on the continent! That's got to count for something. Doesn't it?"

"Perhaps." A tiny smile graced his face. "Perhaps."

A silence fell upon the two of them until Amelia spoke up hesitantly again. "General… you once told me that you'd be willing to teach me more about lancework?"

"Well, I _do_ recall something to that effect." The general said with a wry smile on his face.

* * *

The cyclop's axe crashed down onto the muddy earth with a resounding thud, about a foot ahead of where Franz now was, and where he _would_ have been had he not jerked Neige to a halt.

The muscles on the lumbering beast's arm tensed as it prepared to lift the axe from the ground and try again, but urging Neige forward, Franz managed to get within reach of its belly.

The creature's hide was tough, hardened from years living in the wilderness, grey-green and knobbed with swathes of calluses, but the knight's blade was sharp and the tip plunged deep, earning a roar of protest and a jerk that nearly yanked the handle right out of Franz's arms.

As he yanked the sword out of the wound, dark blood gushed forth, spattering the young knight. The weakened creature stumbled, one arm instinctively going to its belly to clutch protectively at the stab wound.

Glancing up, its singular eye narrowed in fury as it spied the one that had attacked him. With a roar of rage, it began to struggle to its feet – until a lightning bolt seared deep into the beast's eye. The creature jerked back, screaming in pain, until several more blasts of magic silenced it for good.

Franz nudged Neige back and glanced at Ewan. "Nice one. Thanks."

"Not too difficult to line up my shots when you keep running ahead on your noble warhorse and distracting them. Any way, that's one more of those things down – their numbers are thinning."

"It took long enough too." Franz murmured softly as he cracked Neige's reins, heading once more into the thick of the melee at a fast trot. Slightly behind him, Ewan broke into a jog, the young mage's short legs insufficient to let him keep up with the soldier.

A revenant lurched up at Franz, trying to slash at the young knight with its claws. With a quick backswing he cut the creature's head clean off, barely even slowing down. Up ahead, more of the monstrosities surged forward, trying to batter their way through a phalanx of knights holding their ground.

As he neared them, a roar broke out from the back of the lines. Franz glanced up in time to see a what appeared to be a group of centaurs charging the knights. And apparently he was sufficiently close that two of them had decided to change their paths to intercept him…

As the first of the centaurs got within striking range, Franz slashed out with his sword, cutting deep into his opponent's shoulder. There was a shout of rage and the swing from its axe went wide.

The second one was also almost upon him, rearing back on its hind legs so as to give its axe-swing more weight. Neige was barely able to avoid the blow, and only Franz's quick slashes was enough to force the creature back. After collecting itself, the creature charged again, but Franz was prepared this time, and the centaur fell away, mortally wounded.

A roar of rage and pain erupted from behind him and he caught sight of the second centaur collapsing to the ground, burn marks all over its body. Behind it, Ewan tucked away his tome once more.

"Just when you think you've got their number, they toss another one into the works. What's next? Evil snakes?" Ewan muttered.

The fiends, appearing to be largely mindless, didn't hold much to traditional army tactics such as 'regrouping', 'reforming the line', or the ever-popular 'retreat'. As such, they continued to simply swarm forward in an endless wave of darkness. While rather intimidating to look upon, it had the disadvantage of being rather predictable and with easily exploitable flaws.

As such, despite the large numbers of the enemy the tide of battle was turning in their favour. Shaking his head, Franz willed Neige back towards the action, Ewan once more following closely behind.

Just then, he caught sight of Forde and Kyle, both facing off against a group of skeletons. Without a second thought, he set out to aid them. Surprised and unprepared for the newcomer, the skeletons were quickly decimated, leaving the two senior knights wiping away sweat from their bodies.

"More of them than we anticipated, huh." Frode sighed theatrically as he yanked on the reins of his own steed.

"Still, we appear to be prevailing." Kyle noted. "It's a good thing this group hadn't been with General Selena when we arrived at the marshes. The fight would've been far more problematic in that scenario."

"Yeah…" Franz noted the frown that passed over his brother's face. "But _why_ wasn't this group of monsters at Za'Albul Marsh? Taizel showed that these monsters are… well, at the least they're a whole lot more likely to be targeting us than Grads."

"Maybe they were trying to bring these guys over as reinforcements, but they just arrived too late?" Ewan suggested that he blasted a Mogall out of the sky.

"I doubt it." Franz shook his head. "They should've had plenty of time to fortify the place – including bringing up any units they wanted for the fight."

"Maybe General Selena just didn't _want_ to be commanding monsters." Forde opined. "I met her before during one of the diplomatic missions to Grado – she always struck me as a decent, honourable sort." He paused. "Maybe a little _too_ honourable, though."

"Even if we accept that, another problem presents itself." Kyle said. "The forces arrayed there, although formidable, was not on the level one would expect of a general of the Grado Empire. For one thing, the amount of soldiers assigned to the area was nowhere near what a Grad general _should_ have under ones command."

"So tally the damages and we've got a fighting force that simply wasn't up to par, _could_ have been made a lot stronger but wasn't, and in an area where it _should_ have been made stronger since this is pretty much the most direct route to the capital." Forde frowned. "It doesn't add up."

Franz ran a hand through his hair. 'Well, maybe the troops are needed someplace else?"

"Where else could they possibly be needed? We're the main front of the Frelian army, we're driving deep into Grad territory, and the only thing that could even approach this front in importance would be an invasion of Jehenna."

"And even so, why would they abandon their homeland's defenses in order to overthrow _another_ nation? All of this just doesn't make any sense."

Forde threw his hands up into the air. "You know what? I'm gonna go with the 'Emperor Vigarde has gone completely insane' theory. That would explain a whole lot."

_Not everything, though._ Franz thought to himself. _It might explain why he'd be willing to use monsters, but it doesn't explain __**how**__ he was able to get control of them._ His thoughts were interrupted by a distant roar – the monsters had resumed the offensive.

Nodding to each other, the four warriors prepared to re-enter the fray once more.

* * *

With a sigh, Amelia settled herself heavily down by the clear river. Owing to her current disability, she obviously wasn't going to be able to put any of General Duessel's advice into physical practice for a while now, but it couldn't hurt for her to go through them in her mind…

_Right step, left step, thrust…_ Three basic steps from which practically all of lancefighting flowed. Easy to learn, nigh impossible to master…

She was so deep in thought she didn't hear Neimi's approach until her friend called her name. Giving a start and half-turning, she smiled as she saw the pink haired archer approaching.

"What are you doing?" The archer questioned as she sat down beside Amelia, placing a small pail down by her side.

"Hm? Oh… I was, uh, thinking of taking a bath." Amelia shrugged. "Haven't had one for some time."

"Oh? Me too!" Neimi's smile of amusement quickly faded. "But your leg…"

"The bandages are supposed to be changed soon anyway," Amelia shrugged. "Natasha said she'd help me with it once I headed back."

"You're still not supposed to get bandages wet." Neimi said in an authoritative tone of voice. "It's not good for the skin underneath." She paused, cupping one hand under her chin. "Well, I've got an idea."

* * *

"Thanks, Neimi." Amelia said softly as she felt another dash of water against her bare back, quickly followed by her friend's washcloth cleaning her gently but firmly.

"It's no problem, really." The archer chuckled. "It's actually kind of fun. Here, lift that arm – that's right."

Amelia smiled to herself as her friend continued to help wash her. "Neimi, someday you're going to make some lucky guy very happy."

This statement was obviously unexpected enough that Neimi dropped the washcloth. "Wha – I, er… w – what are you talking about, Amelia?"

Amelia shrugged. "Well, think about it. You're sweet, gentle, caring… You'd make a great wife, Neimi."

After a moment, she heard Neimi chuckle. "Well, what about _you_, huh? You're pretty sweet and nice too, you know." Her friend paused for a while. "So, do you have anyone you like?"

Amelia nearly choked, despite not actually having anything in her throat. "Me? I … uh… well, what about you? Why are you asking me this all of a sudden? Do _you_ have someone you like?" She stammered, trying to buy herself some time.

Neimi was silent for several seconds. When she spoke again, it was in an odd, almost dreamy tone. "I do. He's… well, he can be a bit mean and bossy sometimes, but… well, he's always been by my side. He was always there when I needed him, always lent a shoulder when I needed to cry – even when he was the one who made me cry sometimes." Somehow, Amelia could tell by her tone of voice that Neimi was smiling. "He can be a bit aloof, but I… I love him."

Amelia almost turned around to look her friend in the eye. Was that really Neimi speaking? She sounded so different… It wasn't a big secret that she was talking about Colm – the thief could be abrasive in nature, but his relationship with the pink-haired girl was well known to everyone… except maybe himself. "Have you told him yet?"

She heard a soft sigh from Neimi. "No, not yet. But I will. Someday." A note of apprehension crept into her friend's voice. "Not today. But someday I will."

"Good for you."

Then her friend's voice switched back to having a slightly teasing quality about it. "You still haven't answered my question, you know. Do _you_ have someone you like?"

Again Amelia was struck by the inexplicable constriction in her throat. "Um, uh… I, uh, never really paid any attention to the guys back in Grado." She said quickly, knowing that it was a futile gesture.

"Amelia…" Nevermind teasing, Neimi was downright _purring_ now as she leaned forward, her chin almost resting on the lancer's shoulder. "You're not in Grado anymore, are you? What about _now_?"

"I…" Amelia glanced at the ground. "I'm… not sure…" She finally managed. Even she could tell how feeble it sounded.

And apparently so could Neimi. "HA!" She laughed. "You do, don't you? Now, let's just see if I can guess who it is…"

Amelia couldn't see her own face, but she was certain that she was doing an excellent imitation of a tomato at this point. "Neimi, I… I'm really not sure."

"Not sure?" The archer could apparently sense the apprehension in her friend's voice. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I… I'm not like you Neimi. I care about Franz a lot, but… I'm not sure if what I feel is love, or some stupid crush, or, or, well, even just ordinary friendship. And I don't know how _he_ feels about me at all."

"Amelia…" Neimi's voice was gentle. "You really haven't noticed? Franz is crazy about you. I'm not sure if he's even aware of it, but, well, it's really pretty obvious."

"You… you really think so?" Amelia said softly.

"Well, I don't _know_ for sure, but all the signs are there." Neimi sighed. "I'd tell you to go ask him yourself, but I know what you'd to that."

"…" Amelia hung her head. After a long while, she spoke up again. "Hey, Neimi?"

"Hm?"

"She finally turned around and gave her friend a grateful smile. "Thanks."

The archer chuckled. "No problem. We've both got a guy we like whom we haven't confessed to yet. We're in this together, aren't we?"

"Hmm… I guess we are."

* * *

"Well, that's over and done with." Franz said to himself as the army started to head back. The battle had been a tiring one, but happily casualties were minimal and the group was in rather high spirits.

Right now he wanted nothing more than to enter his tent and sleep until dawn…

"Hey, Franz?"

"Hm?" Turning, he caught sight of a flash of red hair. "Oh, Ewan. What's up."

"Nothing much. I just, uh, wanted to talk."

The young knight raised an eyebrow. "Oh? About what?"

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	31. Discontent

No Longer Alone

* * *

Guess who got a broken keyboard _and_ a crashed hard drive just as they wanted to get back to writing after a short hiatus?

Go on. Guess.

Also, this story is officially my most reviewed story as of me writing this, beating out the second by 12 reviews, when both are at 30 chapters. Yay me, I guess.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Oh, they're back!" The smile on Amelia's face widened as she gazed out to the edge of the camp where the weary soldiers were returning, congregating into formation for a quick debriefing.

"Looks like it." Neimi nodded as she folded her arms, staring out at the men. "They took a bit longer than expected, though. I was starting to get a bit worried…"

"Oh? Did Colm go with them?"

"Actually, no." Neimi scratched the back of his head. "He was complaining about sitting it out for a while, but in the end he came around. He should be at his tent now."

"Mm." Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia noticed that the soldiers were breaking up, the knights among them. And then she was hobbling forward, trying to find Franz, to ask him how the fight went, if he needed any help with anything, or well, if he wanted to just take some time off and chat.

Ah, there he was! Cutting her way past several of the soldiers, she saw Franz leaning slightly over Neige, inspecting what appeared to be a long cut across the horse's flank. And next to him was… Ewan?

Hm. She hadn't noticed the two of them getting close to each other, but then again she hadn't really been keeping a particularly close eye on them, after all…

Even as she neared, Ewan broke off the conversation with a shrug, turning away and striding purposefully towards the centre of the camp.

"Hey, Franz." She smiled. "I see you made it back in one piece."

As Franz glanced up at her, she thought she could catch the vestiges of a thoughtful, pensive expression on his face before it was replaced by his familiar, easy smile. "Yeah. The army wasn't as large as we'd feared, but they had a few new monsters we hadn't seen before." He sighed and shook his head. "At this rate, who knows what kind of monstrosities we'll be seeing before the war's end."

Amelia lowered her gaze to the ground. Contemplating shadowy monsters was something she was understandably reluctant to do too much of, and after a moment she shook herself both figuratively and literally. "By the way, what were you and Ewan talking about just now?" She asked, casting about for some other topic of conversation.

"Hm? Oh, you – er, noticed?" Something about the way Franz responded, some catch in his voice, made her look up, arching an eyebrow. "It wasn't anything important, really."

"Okay, then telling me about it shouldn't be a big deal, right?" She smirked at him.

The knight swallowed. It was obvious that whatever it had been, he didn't feel like talking about it. "Look, I'll tell you… some other time, okay? Not now."

Amelia frowned at that, but some part of her mind advised her not to push, that he would tell her when he was good and ready, so she nodded and shrugged and let it pass.

"Anyway, you should get some rest. You need to get that leg healed as soon as possible." Franz looked over at her.

"Oh, and you'll be just fine, huh?" She raised an eyebrow. "If anything, you're in even worse shape than I am. I'm pretty sure that wound wasn't there when you set out."

Franz's smile was tired. "I'll be fine. I just need to go talk to Natasha for a while and then I'll be going to sleep myself. Missing one dinner isn't going to kill me…" His voice trailed off as he walked away.

"Hey, what's wrong? You've got a funny look on your face." Neimi was there again, an inquisitive smile.

"Hm? No, it's not me. It's Franz. He seemed kind of… tired. Distracted."

"Well, maybe the fight wore him out?" Neimi shrugged.

"No, I've seen him when he's tired after a tough battle. It's different. Like… something's weighing him down." Amelia folded her arms. "Like… hmm. I get the feeling he's worried about something."

"Well, you sure seem to know him well." Neimi grinned and elbowed her friend. "Maybe you should go talk to him."

"Nah. When I talked to him earlier, he gave me the impression he wanted to be alone." _To collect his thoughts._ Still, she couldn't help feeling that there was something she could – and should – do about it. "… I'll go talk to him later." She finally concluded.

With that tiny sense of satisfaction, the both of them turned and headed back towards the centre of the camp.

* * *

Franz ambled around the perimeter of the camp, barely aware of his surroundings. Prince Ephraim had informed them that they intended to set out for the capital early the next day – and he meant _early_, but until then, the soldiers were left to their own devices.

Which was a good thing, really, since he needed time to think. To reflect… about what Ewan had told him.

Kicking a stray stone out of his path, Franz sighed, letting his mind drift back to the beginning of the conversation.

"_Oh? About what?" Franz questioned as he silently guided Neige to slow down. After a moment's hesitation, he dismounted – talking to someone on foot while he himself was on horseback could be considered rude, not to mention uncomfortable, due to the craning of necks that had to ensue._

"_Well…" The mage glanced away for a moment. "It's about Amelia."_

"_Oh." Franz frowned. He knew that the mage had become friends with the lancer, but he couldn't honestly see a point of discussion between the two of them – at least not over her…_

_Well, whatever it was, Ewan was having some difficulty bringing the topic up – but it didn't seem like embarrassment, exactly. More like… like he was worried. About what, Franz didn't have the faintest idea._

"_Franz, do you like Amelia?" Ewan fairly blurted out the question as he turned to stare directly at Franz, his eyes set in a peculiar way that Franz couldn't read._

_Well, __**that**__ was rather unexpected. Caught off-guard by the suddenness and bluntness of the question, Franz hesitated for a long moment before replying. "Uh, well… I – she's…um…" No, this wasn't getting him anywhere. Taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself and collect his thoughts, Franz began speaking again. "Yes, I suppose I do. She's a great friend, she usually has a cheerful disposition, and she's easy to talk to. Lately she's also been improving in –"_

"_No, no, no." Ewan was shaking his head. "That's not what I'm talking about. Franz, do you __**like**__ Amelia?"_

_Well, there was no way to doubt the meaning of that. Franz hesitated a moment before sighing and nodding. "Yes, I suppose I do. Why are you asking me this, Ewan?"_

_The young mage now bore a frown on his face. "Franz… look, let's be honest here. You've known Amelia a lot longer than I have. I don't want to make any assumptions here, but… Well, I'm her friend, too. I don't want to see her get hurt."_

_Franz did his best to keep his expression neutral. "And what," he said, unable to keep the edge from his voice. "Makes you think I would hurt her?"_

"_No, it's not like that at all."_

"_Well, maybe you'd better hurry up and start telling me what it IS like, then!" Franz realized he'd subconsciously raised his voice so that others around him could hear and he managed to force it back down with some effort._

"_I – look, Franz. I __**know**__ you enjoy spending a lot of time with Amelia, and based on your own admittance, you see her as something more than a friend," Ewan paused. "Frankly, that's a good thing, because she's in love with you too."_

_Later when asked to describe it, Ewan told him that he had 'pulled short in his walk and gone a rather unnatural colour', but at that moment he was only aware that he felt like he'd been punched in the gut._

"_Uh, Franz? You still with me?" The pupil gave him a quizzical look. And he was, really. He just had to get used to the idea of Amelia bring attracted to him. It honestly wasn't something he'd ever thought about…_

"_Are… are you sure about this?" He finally managed._

"_Well, I don't know for sure, but it's a pretty good guess." Ewan sighed. "It certainly looks like it, if nothing else."_

_Well, it wasn't the one hundred percent confirmation Franz wanted right now, but he supposed it was better than nothing. "Back to the question, then. What is this about? What makes you think I'd hurt her?"_

"_No, look, I'm not saying you'd do it on purpose, but, well…" Ewan paused again, a deep frown etched over his face. "Franz, I – my sister's a dancer. Lots of guys end up interested in her because of… well, because of how she looks. They don't care about her as a person, about what she likes, how much she knows, her past… everything." Ewan's face was set now, his frown angry. "I hate them."_

"_And you think I'm like that?" Franz said tightly, doing his best to restrain himself from reaching over and lifting Ewan off the ground. "You think I only care about Amelia because she's pretty? How dare you-"_

"_No, look, __**listen**__ to me first, okay? I know you don't see Amelia as just a pretty face, that wasn't my point. I was talking about the depth of your relationship with Amelia. Franz, I'm serious here – Do you see your future with her in it?"_

"_What do you care?"_

"_I'm her friend, Franz. I don't want to see her get hurt."_

"_So is Neimi, and she didn't come to me asking me questions about how I see Amelia. Ewan, I barely know you. If you're pals with Amelia, then great. No one ever said she was antisocial. But don't think that it gives you the right to start interrogating me about my relationship with her. Ever."_

_And before Ewan could say anything else in response, Franz had already remounted Neige and steered her away from the young mage._

That had been unpleasant enough, Franz reflected sourly, but not half as much as Ewan catching up with him again just as they'd completed their several-hour trek back to camp. The gist of it had been that Ewan was trying to offer an apology, which Franz had by that point cooled down enough to accept. The unpleasantness had come in from the fact that the way Ewan acted betrayed the fact that he still had something he wasn't telling the knight. What, exactly, Franz had no idea. Which simply led to him puzzling over it, coming up with nothing, and generally being annoyed at Ewan's recalcitrance.

The fact that Amelia liked him as more than a friend might have been uplifting thought at first, except there wasn't a conceivable way where he could broach the subject without it being ridiculously awkward. None that he could _see_, anyway, and that made it all the more confusing.

"Franz?" The gentle voice barely registered in his mind, but when it finally did, he turned to face Natasha sitting down on a bench and staring at him, a soft smile on her lips and a questioning look in her eyes.

"Natasha." He inclined his head in a show of respect. "I trust you're doing well."

The cleric nodded, although Franz could clearly see the strain in her eyes as plainly as the smears of mud and blood across her robes. "I'm fine. I just wanted to say thank you for the satchel you made for me. It proved really useful during that last battle. It's…" She paused, searching for the right words. "Ingenious, really." She finally finished.

"Well, I'm glad you like it." Franz smiled. "It's… really the only thing I'm good at."

Natasha frowned. "Franz, you sell yourself short far too often, you know that?"

"Huh?" The knight blinked. "How so? I mean, I… I'm not that good a soldier, after all. I don't have many talents beyond, well, being good with my hands." He gestured towards the satchel. "That's the only thing I can do that no one else I know can."

The cleric laughed – a melodious, infection chuckle from her throat – and shook her head. "Well, perhaps you just haven't realized it, then, Franz." She quirked her head to the side as she stood. "But you have something else going for you. Not unique – or at least, I certainly hope not. But it's something you possess, and it is your strength as well."

"What? I…" Franz trailed off as he tried to think of what it was that Natasha was talking about. Nothing came up. "I'm afraid you've lost me." He finally said.

She nodded once. "You have a compassionate heart, Franz. One that tries not to cause undue harm to anyone, one that would reach out to comfort a single frightened soldier from the enemy ranks. One that seeks to protect and shield others from harm. That is your strength." She paused, evidently seeing the confusion and doubt he was feeling. "It's okay if you don't understand quite yet… but don't ever forget it, Franz." And with that, she turned and slowly began to walk away.

* * *

"You're up early today." Amelia heard Ross say as she ducked out of her tent. She shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep. I was just too… I dunno. Tense. Anxious."

The axefighter nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I mean, we're really going to do it, aren't we? We're going to assault the capital of Grado."

"Yeah, we are." Amelia sighed and stretched, working the stiffness from her limbs. "Good thing my leg's all healed up already."

It had been several days since the battles in the Za'Albul Marshes. The Frelian army had made good headway into Grado, and they were now less than half a day's march from the very heart of the Grado Empire, a prospect that Amelia found both comforting and unsettling. Comforting because it meant that the war would finally, _finally_, be over. Unsettling because, after all, it was the most heavily fortified structure in the entirety of the continent.

Still, if anyone could pull it off, Commander Ephraim could, right? He'd already done his fair share of seemingly impossible feats. What was one more to him, right?

That quasi-comforting thought firmly in mind, she settled herself down near the centre of the camp, silently watching the guards on duty. It was strange, really, how they'd met almost no resistance whatsoever in their approach to the capital. They'd spotted several advance warning units, and had even managed to capture a couple of them, but enough had escaped to ensure that Emperor Vigarde would know of their arrival.

As more and more soldiers began emerging from their tents ahead of the reveille, Amelia reflected that the jitters were probably affecting everybody. Most of them were ordinary men and women, after all. It was only natural that they-

Her train of thought was broken as she saw Franz walking towards the perimeter of the camp, silent as a ghost. As she continued watching her back, she let loose a frustrated sigh. Franz had been rather subdued and reticent ever since coming back from the battle with the fiends the other day. As best as she could figure, it had something to do with Ewan… but what exactly, she didn't have the faintest clue.

And then there was the question of whether or not there was a chance of them… well, deepening their relationship? Going one step further? She hadn't the clue what to call it, and it annoyed her. She was fairly certain that she liked Franz and according to others, he liked her as well. But even if she felt secure enough to ask him about it, his current moodiness would make bringing that issue up a… sensitive one, at best.

All too soon, the morning exercises and meal were over and done with, the army reassembled, and ready to march. As the order was given and the predawn silence gave way to the methodical tramp of boots, Amelia silently prayed that the future would bring better tidings.

* * *

It had been several long and trying days, to put it mildly. In addition to the current situation with Amelia which he still hadn't the faintest idea how to resolve, there was also the snarl-up in relations with Ewan, and last but not least, he was no closer to figuring out Natasha's cryptic (well, it _seemed_ that way to him) message.

That he had a kind heart was something most people he knew had observed over the years – but it wasn't something unique. Fair enough, she'd said so herself. But she still seemed insistent on claiming that it was his 'strength' – again, whatever that meant.

And lastly, for whatever reason, Amelia seemed to have less time to spend with him, although he had to concede that being in a funk like he was did not make him the most amiable of partners.

Understandably, he hadn't been in the best of moods the past few days.

"Franz?" The voice was soft, hesitant, and as he turned he saw Neimi walking beside Neige.

"Neimi." Dismounting, he smiled softly towards her. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, no, well, not _me_, exactly…" She trailed off. "Franz, is something troubling you?"

He sighed. No reason to lie to her. "Yes. Several things, infact. Why do you ask?"

"It's just… Amelia didn't want me to tell you this, but she's been worried about you. You've been kind of…" She paused. "I dunno, distant."

"I've had a lot on my mind lately." He replied. It was the truth, but it was also vague enough that he could hope Neimi would get the hint and end the questioning.

Obviously she didn't.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"Not really, no." Franz shook his head. "I… I want to deal with this on my own."

"But still, Amelia's feeling kind of down about all this. And you can't tell me that you've been at your perkiest either."

"I…" Franz sighed and closed his eyes. "Maybe you're right. Once this fight is over, I'll go talk to her. For now though, I need – _we_ need to concentrate on the fight."

Franz was surprised by Neimi's reaction – she _beamed_. A smile that she was obviously trying – and failing – to wipe away remain firmly etched on her face. "Great. I mean, good – I, uh… Well, it's motivation for you to get out of the battle in one piece, huh?"

"As if I didn't have enough of that already." However, any response that might have forthcoming by the pink-haired girl was erased as the gates of the Grado Capital – ringed and barred with iron – came into view.

It was time.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	32. Roar

No Longer Alone

* * *

A part of me sometimes wonders how I'm supposed to portray the fights taking place here in any sort of manner approaching realism, since, well, historically, battles were nothing like this.

Of course, given that the entirety of Fire Emblem combat is something that any tactician would condemn almost from the get-go, maybe I can be justified in just winging it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"It's… kinda creepy."

Franz glanced up at Amelia as she said those words. She was staring down the main street of the capital, a lost, somewhat forlorn look on her face. Funny… he hadn't even noticed her walking up.

"What is?" He questioned softly, giving her a comforting look. Well, he hoped it was a comforting look.

"The street. It's so… empty." Amelia's free hand wrapped across the front of her body to cling onto her left shoulder. "The last time I was here, it was so lively. People were everywhere… buying groceries, sitting down and having drinks, living lives…" As if to punctuate her point, a gust of wind slammed a upper-storey window of a building down the street shut, the faint but distinct _bang_ causing several soldiers in the vicinity to look upwards.

Ephraim had split them up into several smaller 'assault teams' to quickly sweep through the streets and clear out any pockets of resistance before converging upon the castle and besieging it proper. This would probably have been a sound plan, if not for the fact that there was a surprising lack of enemy troops.

"They've probably been evacuated." Franz shrugged as pulled gently on Neige's reins. "That's good, isn't it? The last thing Ephraim – any of us - wants is a fight involving civilians."

"But the soldiers? Where are they? Shouldn't they be defending the capital? We should… we should already be in the thick of the fighting."

The knight frowned. "Yeah. I know what you mean. It's odd, really. Ever since we came into Grado, the enemy armies really haven't been up to snuff. They're supposed to have a lot more soldiers than this."

Amelia fell silent for a while. Then she chuckled ruefully. "Well, with any luck, the castle will be empty and we can just march right in and take it, huh?"

"Heh. It'd be a whole lot easier on everyone's part. No more fighting, no more killing, and hey, maybe we could even start repairing the relations between our countries again." Franz closed his eyes. "Sometimes, I want to imagine what it'd be like when the war's over. What I'd do, what the continent would look like. But then I always got reminded of how far we had to go, how many battles still needed to be fought." He paused, taking in a long breath. "But now. This is the last fight, isn't it? Once this is over, we…"

"Once this is over, huh?" Amelia's voice was quite, subdued. She took a few steps forward, head hung low.

"Amelia? Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, smiled. "Nah. It's nothing. Come on. We need to keep moving."

* * *

_Once this is over, huh…_ Amelia thought as the soldiers continued their progression deeper into the city. _Once this is over, I… what's left for me?_

There probably wasn't anything left for here in Grado – at least, not as a soldier. They would never accept her back – not after what she had done. And, truth be told, that wasn't really such a bad thing. She didn't really want much to do with the Grado Army anymore.

She could move to Renais, of course. That's where Franz lived, and she got the feeling that Commander Ephraim wouldn't mind. Of course, that would mean that she would have left _two_ armies (she was technically considered part of the Frelian army right now, after all), but she could live with that.

Moving to Renais shouldn't have posed much of a problem at all, and came with its fair share of perks (one of them happened to be walking alongside her), but… well, something was holding her back. And she couldn't tell what it was. Silva, perhaps… but then it wasn't like she couldn't visit her hometown now and again.

_Maybe it's just nerves. Maybe __everything will be clearer once this fight is over._ With a sigh, she glanced up at the castle, looming in the distance.

_Yeah. Maybe._

* * *

It was only when they were almost at the castle gates that they met resistance. Barriers defended by archers and mages arrayed in the sort of the formation that made a direct charge rather unappealing – and most likely fatal – lined up near the castle gates, the well-trained and disciplined soldiers quickly firing off quick shots as soon as new targets came into view.

Of course the Frelian army's archers were able to reply in kind, and soon the air was filled with projectiles zipping back and forth while the more melee-oriented members of the army sought cover until all the shooting stopped.

Which happened soon enough. Quickly the defenders fell back in organized retreat, laying covering fire to prevent pursuers. Not enough, however, to make the heavily-armoured knights falter in their charge. If the Grad forces got behind the gates and succeeded in closing them, then a lot more time – and lives – would be wasted. That could not be allowed to happen.

Franz was not one of their heavily armoured knights, and as such he and the rest of the army were taking what cover they could while waiting impatiently for the all-important breakthrough. Close by, Forde was grumbling to himself as he splashed the contents of a vulnerary across his arm – a glancing strike from an arrow had torn a ragged line on his arm. Amelia was crouching as well, face set, breathing quickly.

And then there was the swell of noise, equal parts a cheer and a roar, as the gates were secured. Rushing forward, Ephraim made a quick gesture with his arm – a signal for the men under his command to advance.

Grabbing the handle of his blade tightly, Franz charged forward.

It was time to end this.

* * *

As she made her way through the hallways of Grado fortress, Amelia couldn't help but shake the feeling that this was entirely too easy.

Sure, there were the swarms of enemy soldiers marching out from the deepest recesses of the bastion, the locked and barred gates that the soldiers would have to batter down before being allowed access, enemy archers and mages launching attacks from hidden alcoves and scurrying away before they could suffer retaliation... but it still just didn't feel _right_.

For one thing, these soldiers couldn't possibly be Grado elites. They were falling back too soon, too fast. Heck, Amelia had even taken out a few of them on her own, in straight up matches. There was no way they could be the Honour Guard assigned to guard Emperor Vigarde.

For another, there were too _few_ of them. They were making far too much headway into the bastion – the forces of Grado simply couldn't have been bled this much by the fights they'd been through so far. Unless they were marshalling the vast majority of their forces for a last desperate stand in the throne room… but then it would just make them no better than cornered rats.

And, lastly, there was a distinct lack of Grado generals leading the defense. People like Glen, the Sunstone, the Moonstone Valter, and… and a couple others that she didn't know much about.

All in all there was definitely something odd, and she simply couldn't shake the feeling of unease that they were all missing something important.

"Amelia!" At the sound of the voice, she turned to see Franz rushing up to her, his sword already slick with fresh blood. "You all right?"

She nodded and plastered a smile on her face. "I'm fine – don't worry about it."

Franz sighed and fell in step behind her. "You shouldn't have rushed off like that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not my fault you were too slow to catch up with me." She grinned. "Anyway, I'll be fine. Most of the soldiers here aren't that tough…" She trailed off, and she knew Franz had caught the look on her face.

"You noticed too?" He said softly.

She sighed. "There's _no way_ we could've exhausted so much of Grado's resources that these are the best troops they have to defend the capital. I… what's going on, Franz?"

The knight sighed and squared his shoulders. "The only logical reason would be that they're using their elite troops to invade the other countries, but… that's absurd. They should have been recalling all the troops since… I dunno, Taizel at the latest."

Amelia shook her head. "Even if Emperor Vigarde really was committed to ruling the whole continent, he wouldn't leave _himself_ unguarded. And… we'd have heard something if he was out at the front lines in other places, wouldn't we?"

"Probably. I mean, every country has got spies in every other country. We should have heard something by now if that happened."

Amelia remained silent for a moment. "So, wait, Franz. If Emperor Vigarde doesn't care enough to protect himself properly… would the rest of the Grad soldiers care? Would stopping him end the war, or…" She paused, unwilling to complete the sentence.

Then the cries around the corner rose in volume and frequency as the soldiers of Frelia encountered yet another pocket of resistance.

Sparing a glance to each other, Franz and Amelia raised their weapons and charged.

* * *

As the two continued ever deeper into the castle, Franz let himself fall back slightly, enough so that he could keep Amelia comfortably in view for the duration of the fight. The wound she had received was still fresh on his mind, and he had no intention of letting something like that repeat itself.

Abruptly a soldier – a mercenary, really, judging by the loose-fitting clothes he wore – lunged at her, axe in hand. Franz was already dashing forward, sword raised, when Amelia pivoted neatly, bringing the blunt end of her lance up to clock him on the chin. Or at least she would done so it the man hadn't jerked back out of the way just in time, already bringing his blade for another strike.

At this, Franz lunged forward, parrying the blow. The enemy soldier let out a grunt of surprise and stepped back. Franz's eyes narrowed as the two of them faced off tensely –

Until an arrow embedded itself in the mercenary's leg and he fell to the floor with a yelp of pain. Before he could recover Colm had darted over, pressing a dagger to the soldiers neck and warning him in no uncertain terms not to move as Neimi quickly stepped up behind them.

After restraining the soldier, the four of them following the rest of the army further in, Colm turned to grin at Franz.

"Thanks for distracting him for us."

Franz snorted slightly. "Glad to be of service."

Soon they came upon a heavy oaken door, sealed with a heavy padlock. The thief whistled.

"Obviously they've got something in here they don't want us to be peeking in on." Withdrawing a tiny set of metal implements, Colm strolled over towards the lock. "Let me just see if I can… Huh?"

The door swing open without any need of Colm's efforts, and the four of them looked into the room to see a figure crouched over a series of chests. At their unexpected entrance, the brown-cloaked man leapt to his feet, one hand already reaching for the knives tucked at his belt.

And then he paused.

"Uh, hang on. You're not Grad soldiers, are you?"

Amelia paused, shook her head. "N – no, we're with the Frelian army."

The brown-haired man seemed to take this information rather well, at least from Franz's point of view. "Oh. Well, then, it seems that we've got a common enemy… or at the least we've no reason to be fighting each other. So if you don't mind, I'll just be finishing up my looting of the place and-"

"Wait, you're a bandit?" Franz demanded, bringing his blade up. The thief sighed.

"No, I believe the more appropriate term would be 'mercenary seeking his due'. You can't very well blame me for deserting the grand old Grado army when they welsh on my payments, can you? And as long as I'm here, I figured I might as well grab what they owe me. I _do_ happen to be very good at judging the worth of an item."

"I also happen to know a thing or two about the pay of a mercenary, and unless you're a better soldier than three guilds put together, the stuff hanging from you pockets is worth more than a year of unbroken service." Franz snapped.

"Pft. It's not like it would have been left intact either. You guys would have seen to that." The rogue shrugged elaborately. "Besides, I think you have more things to worry about than little old me, don't you?"

As if on cue, a massive explosion sounded through the halls of the palace, the sure sign of mages channelling their energy together for a super-powered fire spell. The only time they'd use something like this was when they were up against a particularly tough barrier…

Franz hesitated, torn for a moment between stopping the thief and rushing to aid the others. Finally he settled for shooting the thief a glare before turning and running in the direction of the noise. After a moment's hesitation, Amelia, Neimi and Colm fell in behind him, leaving the treasure room and the thief behind.

* * *

Amelia didn't claim to know everything that went on through Franz's mind, but she did know enough to know when he was upset about something.

Right now, he was obviously _very_ upset. And it didn't take a genius to see why.

A part of her want to talk to him about it, tell him that it wasn't such a big deal, but a tiny voice at the back of her head told her that it would only be making things worse, and that there wasn't anything she could really do to alleviate it.

Still, it didn't make her feel much better…

Her line of thought was abruptly derailed as they rounded the corner and came upon a scene of destruction. Amelia supposed the doors must have once been beautiful, carved by skilled craftsmen and laid over with melted gold, encrusted with precious gems. Now, though, they lay in smouldering piles, Frelian soldiers charging through the ruined doorway into the throne room of the Grado Fortress.

With a deep breath, Amelia charged in as well, weapon at the ready, Franz following close behind.

"Whoa!" Almost immediately it was apparent that the Grad soldiers filling the area were far more capable than the ones that they had faced throughout the rest of the fortress. Their armour and robes bore the emblem of two crossed pitch-black axes – the symbol of Emperor Vigarde's personal guard.

Steeling herself, Amelia cast a quick glance across the room, seeking out any potential opponents for her to fight. She caught a quick glimpse of Forde and Kyle facing down two knights, Prince Ephraim heading for the throne wear the Emperor was sitting, still silent, Colm hurriedly pushing Neimi back from the front lines, the Druid turning to face her and raising a staff that was beginning to pulse with a sickly red glow-

"NO!"'

Amelia felt, rather than saw, Franz rushing towards her in a tackle that shoved her out of the way of the Berserk spell. She hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact, and it was several long seconds before she could begin to recover, begin to climb to her feet again.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her lance, quickly turning to check if Franz was alright.

"Franz? You okay?"

He was standing several feet away to her right, hands clutched to his head. Even as she watched, he stumbled back slightly, eyes squeezed shut, one hand raised as if to ward people – ward _her_ - off.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. That spell… "F-Franz?"

"I… I said, get… no… go _**AWAY**_!" His last word degenerated into a mindless roar of rage as he lunged at Amelia, eyes glowing with a reddened haze.

Failing to suppress her gasp of horror, Amelia was barely able to bring up her lance in time to block the strike, and the force of the blow drove her back a couple of steps before she was able to regain her footing.

Quickly she settled into a defensive stance. This wasn't a practice battle, Franz would give her no quarter – heck, she couldn't even be sure his fighting style would remain the same… All she could hope to do was to hold him off long enough for the spell to wear off, and Franz to return to his senses.

Not that she was particularly sanguine about her chances of facing down Franz - especially empowered by the maddening rage of Berserk.

She couldn't tell if the druid casting the spell had been dealt with – fending off her friend's wild strikes was demanding absolutely all of her attention – but she hoped fervently that he wasn't preparing a second incantation. Just what she needed, really-

Abruptly she sensed an opening and leaned forward to ram her shoulder into his chest. The jangling force of the chest plates sent a shock straight up her arm, but at least it had given her the opening she needed.

Twisting, she reached up to slam her elbow into his neck, a move that _should_ have sent the young knight sprawling and given him an ache that would have lasted for a week or so. But she apparently hadn't registered that berserk warriors tended to not _care_ about those sort of things.

A flash of silver and red, and a moment later a wave of pain swept up her right leg. Staggering, she instinctively reached out with her hand to support herself-

Only for Franz to grab ahold of it and squeeze. Hard.

There was an audible crack, and Amelia couldn't help the howl of agony. Past the hellish pain, past the blinding tears that now sprang to her eyes, her free hand instinctively reached for the dagger tucked in her belt. If she could stab his thigh…

She was never even able to pull it free of its guard – abruptly she was flung through the air, landing with a loud thump and with the air knocked out of her in the second time in as many minutes.

Gritting her teeth and propping herself up on one elbow, Amelia caught sight of Franz charging her, yet again. Aiming carefully, she lashed out with her foot, catching him right in the ankle.

He hit the ground nearly as hard as she had, but then again, _he_ hadn't received many other wounds before now, whereas Amelia's hand hung limply from its mangled wrist. And of course the wound to her leg would make efficient movement all but impossible.

Things definitely weren't looking good.

Bleeding from a cut to the chin, Franz pushed himself up into a forward crouch, eyes still blazing with unnatural rage. Amelia had no way to defend herself from his forward lunge, aside from swinging her good arm in an attempt to block him.

The back of her head cracked against the floor, and her vision swam. And then she was grappling with an opponent who was stronger than her, wasn't wounded, that she couldn't see probably, had no qualms whatsoever about murdering her, and of course, was her dear friend.

And then she felt his hand clamping down on her throat in a vicelike grip, the other pinning her functional arm to the floor, and a thrill of panic rushed through her body.

"Franz…" She managed, in a choked gasp. Streaks of pain crackled through her neck, the fingers tightening, slowly, interminably.

So that was it, then. To be murdered by her closest friend under the influence of a mind-warping spell in the capital of the Grado Empire. It was… funny, really, how everything should have ended up like this.

And suddenly, abruptly, the pressure released, Franz reeling back and collapsing onto the floor, a look of horror and disgust on his face.

"Amelia… I…" He began softly. The glow in his eyes was beginning, ever so slowly, to fade. "… I…" He simply kept repeating that one word, like some sort of broken automaton.

She couldn't speak – the pain in her throat was still too fresh for her to force air out in anything other than raspy gasps – but a part of her realized that there was nothing to say anyway.

After a long moment, she began to climb to her feet, dimly aware that the sounds of battle were dying down all around her.

Using her lance as a makeshift crutch, she turned and hobbled off towards the exit of the room.

Behind her, Franz remained, unmoving, in his position on the ground.

* * *

Chapter End

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	33. Torque

No Longer Alone

* * *

I'm feeling the slightest bit down because I just lost my DS, which had my Pokemon FireRed with approximately 130 hours to its name and an almost brand-new Pokemon Platinum in it.

It's not a pleasant feeling.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Night had fallen by the time the soldiers had finished securing the castle, and sweeping it of any potential threats. After posting a lookout for any surprise attacks or insurgencies, Ephraim had told the rest of the soldiers to go get some rest – apparently the rosters for who got which room had been drawn up some time before on the assumption that they would, indeed succeed in their assault on the castle.

Somehow or other, the rest of the soldiers had completed their assigned duties without needing to involve Franz in the proceedings, which was a good thing since he was in no fit state to concentrate on anything.

Or maybe it was because the others knew that trying to get him to do anything would be a waste of time and so they left him alone.

He didn't know. He didn't care.

The world passed him by in a blur – somehow he'd managed to fall in, standing at attention until Ephraim had dismissed them without calling too much attention to himself, and now he found himself wandering the halls of the castle, without much memory of how he'd got here.

Well, that was fine, maybe if he just kept focusing on putting one foot ahead of the other, he wouldn't have to think about what he'd done, about the look of pain and anguish on Amelia's face that had been the first thing he'd seen upon coming out of the blood haze, wouldn't have to replay the sound of wheezing gasps echoing in his ears, wouldn't-

With a snarl of frustration, Franz shook his head, trying to dispel the images. Of course, they remained stubbornly lodged in his mind, and he halted, shaking his head in silence.

_Damn it all. I swore to myself that I'd watch over her, that I'd make sure she was safe, and then what do I..._

"Hey."

Turning, Franz sighed as he saw who had called out to him. "Ewan. This really isn't a good time."

"Yep. Not good by any standard definition of the word." The mage popped what appeared to be a grape in his mouth as he walked up. "I mean, strangling your girlfriend half to death is going to leave most anyone in a pretty poor _hurk_."

Franz held his grip around Ewan's throat for a couple of seconds longer to ensure that the young mage knew he wasn't fooling around before releasing it and stepping away. Ewan slumped against the wall, massaging his neck and shaking his head. After a moment, he shook his head.

"Going two for two, are you?"

The knight wheeled around again, fists clenched. "You – shut _up_. I don't know what you think you're doing here, making all this out to be some kind of joke, but I am not in the mood for any of this."

Ewan chuckled softly, the sound harsh against the gloomy quiet of corridor. "Listen to you. You want to know why I'm here? I was about to ask you the same question."

"What am I doing here?" Franz snapped. "I hurt Amelia! I nearly killed her! Do you know what it was like, seeing the look in her eyes when I came to? She was _afraid_ of me! I… promised. I promised Ephraim I'd protect her. I promised _myself_ I'd protect her and then I…" He trailed off lamely and turned away.

Ewan nodded, stepped forward. "Okay. So you hurt Amelia, and you feel like crap about it. That's fair. My question stands: _What are you doing here?_"

"What am I-"

"Do you want to know how Amelia feels right now, right this very instant? She's scared, all right. But she's not scared _of_ you. She's worried sick about you. She was wandering around this place throughout the day looking for you until Neimi forced her to go to the infirmary to get her wounds looked at." The mage sighed, and his voice softened somewhat. "She was there, remember? She saw what happened, she knows it wasn't your fault."

Even as he spoke, Franz could feel his anger against Ewan deflating, fading into a cold shame. "I can't…"

"You and I both know what you should do. Whether or not you'll go through with it…" Ewan shook his head and began walking away. "Well, it's out of my hands. Good luck, sir knight."

And then there was only Franz left, staring silently into the semidarkness of the castle.

* * *

"Hold still." Natasha's voice was gentle as she applied another minor healing spell to Amelia's neck. "Well, that should just about do it for now. You're still going to be sporting a bruise for a while, though."

"I figured as much." She said softly. A faint ache still throbbed every now and again, but she'd been through worse many times before. "Thanks, Sister Natasha."

"Don't be silly. It's my job and my duty." Natasha smiled, although Amelia could tell that she was only keeping it on her face with effort. Given the incident that had landed her in here in the first place…

Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, breathing in and out slowly. She wasn't sure what to do right now – well, aside from her desire to rush out and scour the castle from top to bottom in search of Franz, but that left out the pertinent observation that she didn't know what she'd do when she actually met him.

What was she supposed to say? 'It wasn't your fault,' sounded so… so trite and flat. But it was the truth, wasn't it? She didn't blame Franz for what had happened. Abruptly she remembered staggering away from him, leaving him lying on the ground, and she felt and urge to smack herself on the head. How else was he supposed to interpret that? She'd just needed some time alone… to gather her thoughts, to recuperate. But he wouldn't know that, would he? All he would see was her walking away from him.

She could remember the look of shocked anguish on Franz's face, a part of him still refusing to accept what he had almost done. She bit her lip. Knowing Franz, he was probably killing himself up over it right now. She'd seen that look of guilt on his face before, and she could imagine it even now…

"I have to find him."

"Hm?" Natasha looked up from where she was putting away her equipment into her satchel in time to see Amelia sitting up. "Amelia?"

"I… I have to find Franz. I can't just leave him alone." Saying so, she hoisted herself to her feet, stumbling towards the door.

"But your leg and hand – they're not fully healed yet… Look, Amelia, you sit down. I'll go-"

The door creaked open, catching the attention of both of them in the room.

Franz stood in the doorway, eyes downcast.

There was absolute stillness in the room for a moment, and then Amelia found herself moving forward, reaching out to grab his shoulders, steadying the both of them. Even under the tough material of the tunic – he hadn't changed his clothes all this while? – she could feel him trembling.

"Franz…" She whispered softly.

At the sound of her voice, he closed his eyes, turned away slightly. "Amelia…"

At the sound of his voice, raw with guilt and pain something inside her broke and she reached forward, holding him in a tight hug, her head on his shoulder. She felt his body stiffen, felt him try to pull away instinctively and her grip only tightened.

After a long moment, he relaxed, and she felt his arms coming up around her as well.

"I…" Suddenly, Amelia realized that he was shivering, his voice having the peculiar quality of someone trying to force it out past a squeezed throat, and all of a sudden Amelia realized that he was crying, tears running freely down his cheeks. "I'm sorry!" He finally blurted out tremulously. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

She shook her head, opened her mouth to speak, to tell him that he had nothing to be sorry for, that it _wasn't his fault_ – but after a pause, she closed it again.

She just held on to him. That was all she could do.

* * *

"I wanted to become a soldier so I could protect people… like my father did. He always told me that it was the duty of the strong to watch over those who couldn't do so themselves." Franz spoke softly, staring down at the mug in his hands. After a while, Natasha had gently but firmly forced Franz into a sitting position so she could look to his wounds, and after that she'd produced a hot drink of some kind that she insisted would be good for him. "After a while, after the whole mess with Grado started, 'people' got narrowed down to you, I guess." He cast a sidelong glance at Amelia.

"So that's why." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Whenever I had a close call, whenever you rescued me at the last second… whenever you weren't there when I got hurt… you always had that look in your eyes. You were blaming yourself."

"Prince Ephraim laid a charge on me… he told me to make sure that you were safe." The knight closed his eyes and sighed. "Not that it'd have made much difference if he hadn't."

She gave him a look of mild annoyance. "Franz, I _can_ take care of myself, you know." Then she paused. "Or, well, I'm getting _better_ at taking care of myself. That's the same thing, almost."

He looked away. "I know that, I really do. But that doesn't change how I feel. Amelia… I _want_ to protect you."

When Amelia spoke up again, there was a definite edge to her voice. "Funny. If that's the case, then what did I become a soldier for?"

As Franz sat there pondering, he was suddenly struck by the question itself. "Amelia…" He spoke softly as he turned his face to look at her. "Why _did_ you become a soldier?"

"Don't –" He saw a flicker of alarm wash over her features, an instinctive withdrawal, and he realized he'd struck a nerve. "Don't change the subject." She finally finished, a little more forcefully than was entirely natural.

Silence descended upon the small room once more, and Franz sighed. Well, he wasn't going to pry if she didn't want to talk about it. Perhaps a change in subject was in order? He opened his mouth to speak.

"…It was…" Amelia spoke up softly. "Because I didn't want to be alone."

* * *

Silently, Amelia wondered if she'd done the right thing. She'd never told anyone else, not even Neimi. But then she forced the voices of doubt down. This was Franz. If there was anyone in the whole world that she could place her trust on, it was him (even if his recent remark about protecting her stung a little).

And so she continued to speak.

"When I was just a little girl, I lived in a village – it's called Silva – at the outskirts of Grado. My dad… well, I never found out what happened to him. He was long gone before I ever had a chance to form any memories of him. All I had left was my mother."

She paused, unwilling to continue speaking, as if to say the event out loud would transport them back to that awful, awful day, force her to relive those awful memories.

"And then, one day… there was a bandit raid. They stormed my house, stripped it bare, and… and… they took her away. They took my mother away."

Her eyes were hooded, and she was looking away so that she couldn't see the expression on his face, but she could still here the sharp intake of breath at her statement.

"And when they came, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even scream for help, or stay with my mother. I was too scared, too panicked. I just… hid under the bed, praying they wouldn't find me." Her fist was clenched tight, her nails digging deep into her palm. "She was sick at that time… but she never stopped working, to make sure that there was always food on the table for me. And I couldn't do anything to protect her. I couldn't even protect my own mother!" She was suddenly aware that there were tears flowing down her cheeks. Hastily she reached up to wipe them away.

"And so that's why. I wanted to become strong. I wanted to make sure that I would never lose anyone else again. I wanted to make sure I could protect those I care about. I… I wanted…" She could speak no more. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to swallow past the lump in throat.

Franz was silent for a long while, the expression on his face betraying nothing. Silently, she wondered how he was taking it in. Finally, he stirred softly.

"To protect those you care about, huh…" He paused. "Amelia… I understand that this isn't something you're very comfortable with sharing. Thank you for taking me into your confidence." Another pause. "I want you to know something, too. My parents… they're gone as well."

She nodded. She'd never heard him discuss his parents, but given the closeness between Forde and Franz… "You too, huh." There didn't seem to be anything more to add than that.

"Yes, but the point is, well, when I was standing in front of their gravestones, I made a promise to them that I'd live a long and worthy life, for their sake. I would make the most of the time I had here." He looked up at her. "Isn't it the same with you, Amelia?"

"The same?" She looked up towards the bare ceiling. "Ever since that day… I guess I had a goal in mind, one I kept running after." She closed her eyes for a long moment, and the hint of a smile graced her features. "Franz… you said you wanted to protect me, didn't you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, I want to protect you too. Franz, I… care about you." She really couldn't be much more specific than that, and she was half-afraid she'd already committed too much, but judging by the look of pleasant surprise on his face… "We're in this together, and I'm a full fledged soldier, too. So let's treat each other as equals, okay? I've got your back, you've got mine." She realized that she was dangerously close to slipping into babbling to try to distance herself from her earlier statement, and so she shook her head. "Franz, let me be your shield. I'll protect you."

He nodded, and something flashed in his eyes – acceptance? "Very well. And I'll be your sword to fight for you." He chuckled softly as he completed the analogy. Then, serious now, he turned to face her. "Amelia, I care about you too. You're not alone anymore. Remember that, okay?"

On an impulse, she walked over to embrace him. "Thank you, Franz," she whispered. "I will."

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**Chapter End**

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After doing this chapter, which is supposed to be a sort of emotional highpoint, all I can think about is how often I used ellipses.

Well, thanks for reading. Please review.


	34. Stress

No Longer Alone

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Guess who's the proud (if slightly disgruntled) owner of a brand new DSLite and a copy of Super Robot Wars Original Gen-

_**DASH**__**, TROMBE!**_

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Then, she felt a sudden shift in his body, and a sad chuckle from him. "Huh. Look at me. Here I am, promising to protect you, when only this afternoon I-"

She paused, sighed. She really didn't want him to continue thinking about that – what was past was past, after all. But if he was still beating himself up over it…

"Franz." The way she said it was enough to get his attention. "What's done is done. This afternoon… it was my fault too, you know. I could have fought better. I _should_ have fought better. If you messed up your attempt to protect me…" She shrugged. "That was because I messed up first."

"Still…"

"Look, we're still alive, we're still in one piece, we'll live to see another day. God or fate decided to give the both of us another try, so let's make the most of it, all right?" She hesitated. "We just promised each other, didn't we? So let's live up to that new promise, even if we muffed the first one."

He closed his eyes, nodded. "Okay." He said softly. "All right, then."

* * *

"I still don't get why Prince Ephraim was willing to hire a thief."

Franz glanced up at the sound of conversation. Forde and Kyle were walking towards him, both debating some matter he wasn't quite sure about.

"He probably figured that he could use the skills right now. Especially if what that scholar said was true." Forde shrugged as he settled himself down on a chair. "And there've been reports that Grado troops around Jehenna are on the move, so it looks like we'll be heading out again before too long. Let's just enjoy the downtime while we can, huh?"

Of course. Another battle. This one taking place in Jehenna, if the ongoing discussion was any indication. Franz had heard tales about the place – with it's endless plains of sand, scorching heat so fierce that it burned your throat and nose as you breathed in, about the merciless, pitiless sun, where water was a vital commodity, hoarded and guarded zealously.

He remembered Joshua, the flame-haired mercenary. He'd said he'd been heading to Jehenna due to 'unfinished business' the last time they'd met, hadn't they? Silently, he wondered how he'd been getting on, whether or not he was still with Princess Eirika.

"Hey, Franz." He looked up to see Forde looking down at him. "How're things?"

He could detect the guarded tone in his brother's voice – not that he could particularly blame Forde for it – the story of what had happened must have spread throughout the place by now. Hell, given Forde's tendency to be in the thick of things, he might very well have been there when it happened.

"…Fine." He replied, hoping his brother would get the hint.

With an elaborate sigh and a sidelong look to Kyle (who quickly found that he had somewhere else to be), Forde settled himself down next to Franz.

"You talk to her yet?"

"…Yeah. She doesn't blame me. Or at least she says she doesn't."

"Of course, that doesn't matter half as much as the fact that you blame yourself."

Franz made no reply. He didn't need to.

"…I was there, you know. I saw what happened, and it was a pretty lousy deal all around." Forde paused. "This is kinda late, but… well, did General Seth ever teach you how to deal with Berserk staves when you've no mages of your own?"

"If he did, I must've forgotten."

"Yeah, well, the core principle is to shove the weakest guy in your team in the path of the spell."

"…_What?_"

"Yeah, well – look, we're not mages. If the spell hits us we don't know how to resist it. Therefore it's most practical to let the weakest person take the hit – you stand the highest chance of being able to disable the guy without harming either of you."

Franz swallowed. "Are you saying I should have let Amelia go berserk?"

"You're the better fighter, aren't you? 'Course, it's a moot point _now_, but in case we ever run into any more of those jokers-"

"No. _No._ That's – that's wrong. That's – how could I possibly let her…" He trailed off lamely.

"And what's the alternative, brother?" Forde's easy smile, so often etched across his face, had vanished. "You take the hit, you go crazy, and you kill your weaker opponent? Your friend, who's going to be holding back, while you're in no position to do so? That way everyone just gets hurt."

Franz looked away, unable to find a response. He couldn't think of something to counter what his brother had said, but the very idea was so alien to him that… that… well, he was getting angry just thinking about it.

"I know what you're thinking, Franz. You care about Amelia – that's good. But don't let your feelings cloud your judgment and obscure the truth of the matter." Forde sighed. "Trust me. I learnt it the hard way."

Something about the way his brother was talking made Franz look up. For the first time in… well, a very long while, he could see a look of hurt in his brother's eyes.

"I've been responsible for my friends getting hurt a lot in the past. I didn't fight well enough, I missed an opening, I just wasn't on the ball, I wasn't paying attention when it happened… I know you've gone through the same thing. I've seen it happen."

Franz didn't respond.

"I also wounded one of them myself. No, it wasn't like what happened with you. It was in the middle of a battlefield, and the enemy ducked faster than I thought he would. I damn near took off Gerard's arm off." Forde reached over and grabbed a piece of bread, chewing it thoughtfully. "I felt like a monster for a while. 'Course, my friend told me he didn't blame me, that I shouldn't blame myself, that it could have happened to anyone, that he really should have fought better himself…" The knight gave his younger brother a crooked smile. "Any of this sound familiar?"

Franz nodded and managed a slight smile of his own. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does."

"…That won't help with how you feel – you're still going to feel like swamp scum for a while. You're still going to have to deal with what happened. But you can't let it bog you down too much or you'll just keep making worse and worse decisions. Just something to keep in mind." Saying so he stood up and headed after Kyle, leaving Franz to ponder.

* * *

"You care for him? That's the best you could come up with?" Neimi raised an eyebrow as she stirred some drink that she was concocting while Amelia ducked her head. "That's all you had to say?"

"It's… I don't see why I should be so forward." The lancer rubbed the back of her head. "I told you before, I'm not even sure it's… well, _that_ kind of relationship."

"We'll it's certainly not going to be if you keep acting like that." Her friend commented.

"Come off it." Amelia chuckled. "It's not like you and Colm have done a whole lot, have you?"

She could see Neimi sigh. "Well, it's different between us. It's… we have an understanding. Neither of us needs to say it."

"…I think it would be better if you said it out loud."

Neimi sighed. "Maybe. Maybe. But!" She said as she lifted the mug to her lips to take an experimental sip. "Back to you. You're really not sure if you feel that way about him?"

Amelia shrugged. "Well, I'm not exactly familiar with this, you know."

"Well, you two spend nearly every waking moment around each other."

"We do _not_." Amelia folded her arms crossly. "I'm with you right now, aren't I? Anyway, just because we're really close friends doesn't mean we're more than that."

"No, of course it doesn't." Neimi had an absolutely infuriating smile on her face.

"But that's the whole _point_!" Amelia huffed and crossed her arms. "At what point do you cross the line? Where do you stop being very, very good friends and start becoming, well, lovers? How do you tell?"

The archer shook her head. "There's no easy answer to that, Amelia. But if you're really not sure right now, then I guess you might want to wait. After all, it's not like either of you are going anywhere."

"I guess not. I mean, I thought the war would end here, but everyone's still running around and making preparations to continue, and I heard some rumours that we're planning to move for Jehenna next."

Neimi sighed. "Well, I guess in a way, I don't really mind. Not the killing and fighting, I mean – those are horrible. But I don't mind this wandering around, travelling the continent. After all, Colm and I… we don't really have anywhere to go home to."

"Well, if you like, I'm sure you could find a place in Silva." Amelia smiled encouragingly. "We'd welcome you in without a second thought."

"Silva?" Neimi blinked and looked at her.

"Well, yeah. It's my hometown in Grado. Didn't I tell you about it before? It's not the biggest or most prosperous place, but-"

"No, no, it's just…" Her pink-haired friend looked vaguely uneasy. "It's just… I always… I just assumed that you'd be coming back with us, Amelia. To Renais. After the war."

That brought Amelia up short. She'd already thought about this earlier, but usually in vague, half-formed musings. Back before the assault on the castle had been the deepest she'd went into things, and perhaps not incidentally, the first time she'd given serious thought to the idea of moving to Renais after everything had ended.

"Well…" She finally answered. "Maybe. I'm not sure about making a decision just yet."

"Then let me give you some incentive." Neimi took another sip and apparently found the brew to her liking. "Franz is a knight of Renais. He's going to have to stay in there until he resigns his commission, which, well, isn't happening anytime soon. So if you don't want to have to leave him behind…"

Amelia could feel her face heating up. "You act like the entirety of my decision making is based around Franz or something."

"What?" Neimi affected astonishment. "You mean it's not?" Then her grin faded, although a warm smile still remained on her face. "But really, Amelia, I just wanted you to think about it for a while – what would it be like if you had to leave behind everyone else. We've probably still got some time left until you have to choose one or the other, so just sleep on it, okay?"

"Yeah," The blonde soldier nodded. "Yeah, I guess that would be good idea."

* * *

Once in a while, Franz mused on why Ephraim held him in a high enough regard that he got invited to the planning sessions. He rarely gave input unless he was specifically asked for, and almost any relevant information would have reached him sooner or later anyway as they were informed of their next destination.

Maybe he was serving as a sort of ersatz replacement for General Seth? Well, whatever it was it wasn't going to do him much good worrying about it. He stepped into the conference room, noting that it was still relatively empty – the meeting wasn't supposed to take place just yet.

"Ah, Sir Franz." Ephraim looked up from a map with a tiny smile, although Franz could see several telltale signs that the prince was indeed under a lot of stress. "If all goes well, we should be meeting up with Princess Eirika and her retinue."

"You mean – General Seth?"

"Sounds likely, doesn't it. The last recorded communication was when they were near the mountain village of Caer Paelyn."

Franz frowned. "I don't think I've heard of it."

"Yes, well, many people haven't. But your friend Ewan has ties to that place, and I was able to glean a bit of information from him concerning it. Anyway, they were headed towards Jehenna, and they should be within the country limits right now."

"And that's… bad, right?" Franz questioned. He'd seen the frown on the prince's face.

"Well, yes. There's strong evidence of Grad troop movement over here and here-" He indicated several spots on the map one of which was surprisingly close to the Jehennnan Palace. "Jehenna being, well, Jehenna, has large tracts of land where there's practically nothing in the way of civilisation. It _is_ possible that a large army is operating dangerously close to the royal family."

"But that's-" Franz didn't know much about desert living, but what he _did_ know created more than enough problems. "You couldn't possibly hope to move an entire army through the desert regions! The logistics would be a nightmare! The entire reason there're no settlements out there is that there's no water – how could the army last a week before disintegrating?"

"I don't know. And while the mages tell me that it's _possible_ for magic to make the necessary substitutes, it would require magic on a scale greater than any human could hope to achieve." Prince Ephraim, Franz realized, was worried. And that worried Franz, because in all the time the young knight had ever known the prince, he'd never seen the heir to Renais' crown as anything other than calm, self-assured, in control. Now, though…

"Well, nothing for it. Once the others get here we'll have to-"

He was distracted by the appearance of a man bearing the sigil of a messenger on his breast plate. "Milord, I bring urgent news."

Ephraim nodded. "Well, let's hear it."

"Jehenna… the palace has fallen victim to a surprise invasion from Grad forces."

Franz felt, rather than saw, Ephraim straighten in shock. "So quickly?" He sputtered. "Before word even got here? They should have been slowed down long enough for-"

"There's more, milord." The messenger was obviously very worried. "Princess Eirika of Renais… has been reported to be in the vicinity of the Jehennan palace when the assault occurred."

There was dead silence in the room for several long seconds. And then Ephraim was rounding the table, heading for the door, all but breaking into a flat-out sprint. At that moment, the door swung open and Forde walked in, followed by a retinue of advisors.

"So I'm figuring we'll set out in, let's say three days, and we'll head for the Jehennan border-"

"Get your gear ready and alert the men. We're to leave before the hour is out." The prince never even broke stride as he rounded the soldiers and vanished beyond the doorway.

Forde blinked once, looked back to where Ephraim had vanished, and turned back to Franz.

"Anything I should know about?"

"Yeah," Franz sighed and rubbed his head. "Just a bit."

* * *

Notwithstanding Ephraim's commands, getting an entire army, especially one that had been operating under the assumption that they'd be getting a bit of much-needed downtime, into full battle order ready for marching at full speed took considerably longer than an hour, to the extent that the sun was at the tip of its arc for the day when they finally set out. Unsurprisingly, this didn't do wonders for morale.

"All right, that should do it." Amelia heard Franz muttering to himself as he tied down a heavy pack. "It should hold, huh, girl?" He rubbed the beast's head affectionately. "It's a bit of extra weight, but I'm sure you'll do fine."

"What's in there, then?" She questioned as she came up to him.

"Hm? Oh, hi, Amelia." She caught a flash of hesitation in his eyes before he smiled at her. Inwardly she winced. He wasn't going to live it down entirely, at least not for a while. "I'm just tying down my armour plates."

She gave a pointed glance towards the pack, which was securely fastened with rope and belts. "Uh, and what happens when you need it quickly for a fight?"

"For a f – Amelia, we're headed for _Jehenna_. It's practically nothing but desert. If we wore any armour heavier than hip guards we'd be cooked alive in minutes."

"Oh – Oh!" She flushed. "I'm sorry, I'm – I guess I'm not familiar with what a desert is like."

He chuckled. "Me neither, actually. I'm just going by what I've picked up from those who have experienced what it's like." His gaze wandered towards Forde, who was just clambering onto his own steed.

"So at least we know where most of the Grad forces were. Although…" She paused. "Why they're doing this is still up for grabs."

"I heard that they have two of the Grado Generals there." Franz spoke softly as he stared out in the direction of the desert country. "If that's true, and their armies are at full strength… then this could be the biggest fight of our lives."

"And it has to take place in a desert, no less." Franz muttered. "I'm starting to miss-" He was cut off as the ground rumbled softly once more.

"Another one?" The lancer sighed. "They seem to be occurring a lot more frequently nowadays. Or maybe it's just because of where we are in the country itself."

"Yeah, as I was saying," Franz said somewhat grumpily. "I'm really starting to miss Renais."

"Oh? You know, come to think of it, I've never actually seen your homeland."

"Yeah? Well, you'd love it, I'm sure. In the spring, when the flowers bloom, the gardens are a huge blaze of colour – a lot of the flowers in Renais don't grow anywhere else, actually. There's a lake just near my house where Forde and I would always go to cool off during the summer months – the water there is pristine, and it's secluded enough that you can just spend a lazy afternoon there without being disturbed by anyone."

"That _does_ sound nice." She said softly.

"…" Franz was silent for a moment as he mounted Neige. Then he nodded. "Well, after the war's over… would you like me to bring you to see those places?"

Amelia was silent for a while, mouth half open. Then she nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I would."

* * *

**Chapter End**

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Thanks for reading. Please review.


	35. Promise

No Longer Alone

* * *

And here we are with chapter 35 of my story.

I hope you enjoy reading this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Travelling to the border of Jehenna itself took nearly a week, and _that_ was with them taking minimal stops, covering as much distance as they reasonably could. They travelled mostly at night so as to avoid the merciless heat of the sun, although this increased the chances of being ambushed due to the poorer visibility, Ephraim had deemed it an acceptable tradeoff for not tiring the men out – getting to Jehenna quickly took maximum priority.

It was at the border, during one of these rather infrequent breaks, that Amelia found herself looking for Franz yet again.

"You've heard about the new reports?" He nodded in response. Word tended to travel fast through the army.

"Two Grado generals, Caellach Tiger-Eye and Valter the Moonstone. Along with the greater part of their soldiers. The palace itself has fallen and the Queen killed – but there're still reports of fighting in the vicinity – Eirika and the crown prince of Jehenna have been leading a guerrilla movement, trying to tie the forces down. And, oh yeah, Prince Lyon has been spotted once in a while in the region." Franz sighed. "This is going to be a big fight."

"…It's funny. Before we stormed Grado castle, I was so sure that it would be the biggest fight of all, and that we'd end the war once and for all. But now… it's another battle. And I keep wondering when it'll all end."

"Well, even if they're scattered across the continent, Grado doesn't have infinite resources. Sooner or later they won't have enough to continue waging war, and they'll have to surrender."

"Sooner or later, huh." Amelia's smile was tired. "Even if the war ended tomorrow… the entire land's a shambles. How long until life goes back to normal again?"

Franz remained silent for a while. "If by 'normal' you mean what it was like before the war, then I don't think it'll ever go back to the way it was. At least, not for us."

"It feels funny how it's gone by so quickly, though." Amelia closed her eyes. "Where's the little girl that used to dream of becoming a knight in shining and fighting valiantly for her homeland? I miss her."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that, and so Franz simply sat there in silence, at her side. And then there came the call for them to get back on the march.

"Well," he said softly, trying to sound encouraging. "Let's go."

"Yeah." Amelia nodded. "Let's."

* * *

Several days later, as Amelia staggered up the top of yet another sand dune, she wished fervently that she was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Aside from the fact that she was hot, sticky, and sweaty (which made a contrast to the freezing nights of the desert where she frequently huddled up inside the thickest cloak she had available shivering until she passed out from sheer exhaustion), which was how she usually felt coming _out_ of a battle, not about to enter one, she was now gazing down upon another sea of soldiers in battle lines, crimson armour of Grado gleaming in the sun.

_Wait, armour?_

"Franz, why are they…?"She frowned. Something _definitely_ wasn't right here.

"Yeah, I know." The worried look was on his face as well. "If they're able to continue wearing heavy armour out here in this desert, then something's definitely up. Probably some kind of magic spell – I don't know, you'll have to ask the scholars."

This meant that they'd be fighting at a disadvantage, of course. Amelia groaned. This just kept getting better and better.

"Form up the lines!" She heard the call from the army commanders and sharing a quick nod with Franz, they headed to their battle positions. Ephraim had decided that the sort of confrontation that involved two armies spreading out and advancing on each other wouldn't really work well here – partly because he wanted to reach Eirika as soon as was humanly possible, and partly because the longer the battle took, the more the men's strength would be sapped by the hostile environment. Indeed with so many of the men being unaccustomed to the desert climate, quite a few of them had already been rendered invalids for the foreseeable future, thus further depriving the army of much-needed men. This also led to the third part of the equation of the current battle plan – the fact that they were rather badly outnumbered.

Initial reports had placed the two generals at extreme opposite ends of the battlefield, with Caellach the Tiger-Eye holding the oases near the Jehenna Palace itself, the source of the water needed to keep the army intact in the desert. Valter the Moonstone, by contrast, was encamped near the fortress town of Negev, his Wyvern units able to strike fast and hard from that location. And Eirika was supposed to be holed up in the burnt-out husk of the Jehenna Palace, trying to hold out against the onslaught until help arrived.

"Three battle groups, three strikes." Ephraim had stated during the planning session. "One to recover the oases, one to liberate the town, and most importantly, one to recover Eirika. If we can get her and her group out of there, then we can regroup, retreat if need be, and plan our next move. Of course, if we seize either the oases or Negev, out position will be drastically improved – it'll give us a place to set up our own fortifications. As it is, we'll have to make do with the towns out here – and they're really not defensible under a sustained assault. We'll have to take the initiative."

And so it was that Amelia now found herself staring at an army group in the distance, her stomach deciding that it really wanted to be jumping around.

"I thought horses were supposed to _increase_ your mobility?" She directed the rather pointed question at Franz as her mount stumbled for what appeared to be the fifth time in as many minutes. She was willing to attribute most of it to her being a pretty poor riding, what with her having only taken sporadic lessons ever since she hooked up with the Frelian Army, but even so… and she still didn't know why she'd been assigned one for this particular battle. They were supposed to help with the fighting, but she had the distinct feeling that it only applied to trained horsemen – like Franz, when it came down to it.

"They do – most of the time. If the sand's too loose, though…" Franz was guiding Neige along at enough of a pace to make her jealous, even if it was still far slower than the usual speed. "After a while you can spot where it's more tightly packed."

"Hmph." Amelia muttered under her breath as she tried to guide her own mount to follow in Franz's path. "I'm not even good with horses. Why are they giving me one now?"

"I don't know… maybe Lord Ephraim wants another mobile fighter. Don't worry too much – our horses are well trained so you shouldn't have too much difficulty." He frowned. "Well, in most other terrain anyway. Giving you one as we're about to enter a desert _is_ pretty iffy."

"Tell me about it." She grumped as her horse stumbled again, and her frayed patience gave way. "You know what, this isn't worth it. I'm going to be spending more time fighting to stay seated than fighting any enemies as long as I'm on this thing. I'm sure you're a great warhorse, girl, and maybe we can try again after we leave this godforsaken desert, but right now, you're more hindrance than help."

Watching over his shoulder, Franz couldn't help but crack a smile as Amelia dismounted her steed rather clumsily, landing rather hard on the parched desert sands. She sighed and wiped away a coating of sand that had somehow accumulated on her arm. "Now that's over and done with-"

A plume of fire jetted out to their right, heralding the arrival of a party of mages. Whirling, Franz drew his blade, but just as he was about charge, he hesitated. The treacherous nature of the sand would leave him open to attacks from the mages if he charged, Amelia surmised – and rather distressingly, the mages didn't appear the least bit affected by the shifting sands, running across towards the strike force.

To his right, archers and their own mages were beginning to respond, arrows and spells tearing into the ranks of the mages, scattering the lightly armoured soldiers. Amelia's brow furrowed. Something wasn't right…

"Where's the backup? No commander in their right mind would send in a mage squad without any support?"

As if on cue, the air was pierced with the screech of wyverns and the army whirled around to see the pride of Grado's army descending upon them, their claws stretched out to seize and tear.

"Get ready." Franz said shortly to Amelia, who nodded and brought her lance upwards. Not that she was likely to be able to deal with any of the beasts as long as they continued to soar overhead, but maybe if one of them decided to land amongst the knights and if they remained focused on the other soldiers long enough for Amelia to get within attacking distance…

Yeah, that would be a pretty long shot.

Abruptly, she felt a slight tingling in the air around her and instinctively dived to the side an instant before the Flux spell manifested itself where she had been standing a moment a ago. She'd been around the shadowy practitioners of dark magic long enough to know what being in the vicinity of one of their spells felt like and as she rose to her feet again she caught sight of one of their number floating towards the army.

"I," She said as she hastily tried to brush off as much sand from her body as was reasonable. "Am really starting to get tired of druids."

"You too?" Franz remarked as he wheeled around to face the spellcaster. Diving Franz as the greater of the two immediate threats the druid raised his hands again, runes carving themselves in the air as it prepared to hurl another blast of elder magic.

"Oh no, you don't!" Amelia yelled as she charged forward to intercept the spellcaster, but abruptly a vortex seemed to form in the ground next to a druid, an armoured figure emerging from it. The newcomer quickly moved to intercept Amelia, moving with the same nimbleness across the sand as the mages. As it neared, Amelia noted with dismay that it was wielding an axe – and a sturdy one, at that. One good hit from it would be enough to shatter her own weapon like a twig.

The soldier – if that was the right word to use, there was a definite air of it being artificial, somehow – moved forward with a fluid grace, bringing it's heavy weapon up in a swing that forced Amelia to dodge to the side. Using the momentum of its initial attack, the soldier whirled around, its axe slashing horizontally to tear at her midsection. Again, Amelia was able to skip back in time, as she worked desperately to find an opening.

Narrowly avoiding another strike, she struck out at the enemy, not seeking to harm it in any significant way – the angle was all wrong for that anyway – but maybe to get it to back off a bit. The tip of her lance struck the side of her opponent's thigh, a thin scratch that most soldier's wouldn't even have noticed, but he – it? – screeched in response, a spurt of black vapour jetting out from where she'd marked it. A moment later the creature seemed to dissolve into the empty air in front of her eyes.

Blinking twice to get past the befuddlement, she cast a quick glance around to ascertain that the enemy soldier was no longer in the vicinity, and she resumed moving towards the druid, who was, for once, more manoeuvrable than the knight on horseback he was currently facing. However, as she neared the due, Franz managed to get a strike in on the mage's neck. There was a short spray of blood, and the spellcaster collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"You okay?" Franz glanced at her. "That… whatever it was?"

"Yeah – I'm fine. It vanished as soon as I scored a glancing blow on it."

He frowned. "I heard most summoned entities are really unstable when they get to our world. Maybe that's what-"

He was cut off by a loud screech heralding the arrival of another wave of wyverns, pouring out from Negev in fresh waves. Suddenly, Amelia realized that in a few short moments they had separated themselves from the rest of their army group, and would be an obvious target for wyverns to isolate and pick off.

"Come on." She said anxiously. "We should start heading back."

"Right." Franz confirmed, wheeling Neige around. Almost as soon as the words left his lips, a dark shape planted itself directly in front of the two of them.

"And what have we here?" Valter the Moonstone said softly, a cold smirk gracing his features. "Two lost little lambs, away from the flock?" The smirk widened into a nightmarish grin as his wyvern mount took a step forward. "The perfect appetizer to whet the hunger, wouldn't you say?"

As the two of them instinctively shifted their weapons into a defensive stance, he lunged, eyes alight with sadistic glee.

* * *

Later, Franz would be at a loss to describe the experience. While he had always known on an intellectual level that he was no match for a general of any of the nation's armies, let alone one of such a celebrated military as Grado's, to actually be facing down one of them in mortal combat was something he could not have realistically prepared himself for.

The Moonstone's lance came at him in a blur of steel, and instinctively Franz dodged – blocking the strike would only cause him to stumble, leaving him open to a follow-up attack. The wyvern rider quickly shifted again, stabbing downwards from his mount, missing Franz by a hair. Again.

_He's playing with me._ The cold worm of realization nestled itself in the cavalier's gut. _He could gut me like a fish without trying, but he's holding back, letting me tire myself out first._ He'd utter a curse of some sort, but he couldn't waste the breath – all his stamina was reserved for barely, just barely, keeping one step ahead of Valter's inhumanly precise strikes.

"Fra-" He heard Amelia's cry, but he was too focused on trying to defend himself to see what had happened. Another precise stab of the lance, and Franz finally thought he could see an opening. Urging Neige forward, he brought his sword up-

There was another flash of movement, the sound of sharpened steel tearing through flesh, and then Franz fell hard onto the sand, clutching at a bleeding midsection. His vision swam for a brief moment, clearing enough to see the Moonstone staring down at him.

"That's one." Valter's grin widened. "Now, as for the girl..." His mount veered to the side just as Amelia lunged forward with her lance, one of its leathery wings snapping forward to throw her to the ground.

_No!_ Gritting his teeth and ignoring his body's screams of protest, Franz dragged himself to his feet, tightening the grip on his sword. _I have to protect her!_

Valter was waiting patiently as Amelia fought to stand upright, scrabbling against the loose sand. Just as she had managed to find good footing, he lunged again, the sharpened tip of his lance aimed at her heart. Instinctively she dodged to the side, but Valter had already anticipated the clumsy move. As she stumbled away, he swung his gauntleted fist in a low arc, catching her in the side of her head. Amelia was sent sprawling onto the burning sands, and this time she didn't get up.

"Bah." Valter's face grew annoyed. "These bloodless minnows can't slake my thirst. They can't offer me what I want! I'll just finish you off quickly, then. A beautiful patch of scarlet blood on the scorched land to mark your passing." Raising his eyes, he sneered at Franz as he raised his lance above the fallen soldier. "Oh, you're up. Do you think you can make it in time? Come on, boy. Run at me, swinging that pathetic little knife of yours. How close will you reach before I tear open her heart? Shall I leave you alive to watch as it pumps her precious blood onto the desert sands?"

Franz froze, weapon still held at the ready position, suddenly horribly aware that Amelia's life lay completely in the hands of the Grad general before him. He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm himself down, trying to formulate some sort of plan.

"What? Paralysed by fear? Well, let me help you make your decision!" Shifting the angle slightly, Valter raised his lance, ready to stab down-

And then a fireball slammed into the underside of the wyvern, causing it to screech and rear back. The lance blow thudded into the dirt as the general growled in anger.

"Franz!" Ewan ran up, hands already glowing in preparation for another spell. "Get Amelia out of there! I'll hold him off."

"What? No! You'll be killed!" As Valter fought to bring his mount back under control, Franz darted forward, crouching over Amelia to try to assess the extent of the damage she had received while keeping one eye on the Grad general.

"Don't argue! We don't have time for-"

"_DIE!_" Valter shrieked as he regained control, his face distorted with rage. Ignoring Franz and Amelia completely, his wyvern literally _leapt_ over the pair, flaring its wings as Valter stabbed forward again.

_CLANG!_

"No." The reply was calm and firm as another lance came down hard, blocking Valter's attack from reaching Ewan.

Franz risked a quick glance upwards. _Another wyvern?_ The newcomer's face was unfamiliar to him, but if he was opposing Valter…

"Cormag!" If anything, Valter's grin only grew wider, although there was a peculiar quality in that smile that held no trace of mirth. "And here I thought you'd died in Carcino's mountains. A turncoat instead, then? Tsk, tsk. Well, I suppose it's past time you joined your dear brother, anyway."

Franz barely understood anything of the conversation – right now most of his attention was focused on the unconscious Amelia, trying to carry her in his arms as he called Neige over. Through it all he resolutely ignored the fiery pain in his side – it was something to be dealt with later.

"Moonstone! I challenge you!" Franz glanced upwards. Sir Gilliam and Sir Garcia…! Both of them had their weapons drawn, and were standing alongside the newcomer wyvern rider, forming a small defensive formation around Ewan. As he watched, Sir Gilliam's eyes flickered briefly to Franz, his intent plain. _Go. We will buy you time._

"Trying to buy time for the gallant knight to ride off with his distressed damsel, hm?" Valter laughed as Franz's heart fell. So he'd seen through it… "Very well. Ride away, little one." Valter shifted his gaze to the knight, still in the shadow of the wyvern's wings. "Try and outrun death. I'll catch up soon enough. First, though…" A pale tongue flicked out as the Moonstone licked his lips and shifted his gaze to the group of more experienced fighters. "Come on, _entertain_ me!" He screamed as he charged forward at the others.

As quickly as he could, Franz mounted Neige, letting Amelia straddle the spot in front of him. His right arm clutched her midsection tightly to secure her, and with his left he cracked the reins of his steed.

"Come on, girl." He said softly. And as they rode away, Franz glanced back at the melee taking place and tried desperately not to think about what would happen to all of them if Valter won.

He had other concerns right now.

Get back to the base camp. Everything else was secondary.

* * *

Several minutes of hard riding later, Franz paused, breathing heavily. The pain from his wound was getting worse at a rapid pace, to say nothing of the trail of blood he was leaving behind him. He was loathe to slow even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't do any good if he himself collapsed halfway through.

Reluctantly, he ordered Neige to come to a temporary halt as he fumbled in his satchel for a vulnerary. Uncorking it and tossing the cover away, he took a quick dose.

…Better, he finally decided. There was still sharp stabs of pain, but as long as it he wasn't in any danger from collapsing from blood loss…

Then, and only then, did he realize that there was no way he could have bled so much on his own. The dark liquid was almost soaking straight through his tunic, clinging to his skin. His heart froze.

"AMELIA!" As quick as he could, he looked over her, finally noticing a gash across the side of her chest from which the dark blood flowed. _How did I miss that?_ Frantically he tipped her head back, pouring the rest of the bottle's contents into her mouth and praying frantically that it wasn't too late.

Amelia seemed to react – marginally. But that had to be enough for now. As long as he reached the camp in time…

Quickly, he urged Neige forward – and just as quickly pulled her to a stop, eyes wide with horror.

Ahead of him was arrayed a battalion's worth of armoured horsemen, all clearly marked in the distinctive red of Grado's armour.

Quickly he cast about for another way out, but there was nothing but empty desert all around them – and he couldn't waste the time needed for a large detour.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, gathering himself together.

_I will be your sword and fight for you._

His eyes snapped open, his expression shifting into a determined glare.

_I promised._

"Let's go, Neige."

At his urging, she threw herself forward, charging for the line of soldiers at full speed. As he neared, they began to notice the lone figure rushing up to them, and they brought their weapons, confused looks on their faces. Franz supposed he could understand that – it wasn't everyday that a single knight charged an entire battalion.

With any luck they wouldn't resort to attacking until he got a little closer…

He saw one of them drawing his bow, but hesitating at the last moment, unsure if he should really be shooting at the single rider charging up to meet them.

Good for them, then. When the rider finally fired, it was a poorly aimed arrow that thudded into the sand close by Franz as he continued his charge. The others were now levelling their swords and spears, intent on stopping Frazn from getting by.

And then Franz was charging through them, fighting his way through like a man possessed. He barely registered any individual moments – everything passed by in a blur of steel and screams and noisy confusion. Through it all, he simply kept moving forward dodging and parrying blows, trying to break through the knights swarming around him.

Pain swept through his body – glancing blows he could have ignored had he been wearing his armour, but now… Spotting an opening, he struck, letting dark blood gush out.

No time for finesse. No time for mercy or holding back.

Break through. That was all that mattered.

And then suddenly he _was_ on the other side of line, breathing heavily as he took stock of the wounds all across his body. There was still no time to stop as the knights were busy chasing him, and shaking his head Franz continued to ride back towards the base.

Fortunately there were no arrows coming his back, so either the mounted archer he'd seen earlier had chose not to fire at him for whatever reason, or as was more likely Franz had disabled him during their earlier fight.

Even more fortunately, Neige was able to widen the gap between them. As they continued to gradually fall behind, Franz began to wonder if the worst was over.

No it wasn't, as it turned out.

A black shadow fell over him for a brief instant, and Franz glanced up, eyes wide. _Valter?_ But this wyvern's colour was different, a pale green instead of the dark grey of Valter's steed.

This, however, made the fact that it was swooping down in a low arc no less distressing.

_Not now!_ Frantically he tried to steer Neige to the side, but the wyvern rider anticipated his move and swung to intercept easily, curved claws slashing down.

Franz hit his head hard enough for him to black out for a moment. What brought him around was the sound of a horse's scream.

_Neige! _Disoriented, he stumbled to his feet, seeing the wyvern crouched over the struggling form of his mount. Quickly he scanned the area, seeing Amelia lying some distance away. At that range there was no way to check if she had suffered any more injuries, but he couldn't risk running over to check – he had to defeat the wyvern rider first.

Just then, Neige's struggling ceased, and Franz resisted the urge to cry out, steeling himself instead for the battle.

The wyvern whirled around, blood and saliva dripping from its jaws as the rider raised his spear, face hidden by a steel helmet. Franz noted the crossed black axes embossed on his opponent's armour and grit his teeth. Just what he needed to face – an elite guard unit.

And then his opponent was rushing forward – his attacks bearing slightly less of Valter's inhuman speed and precision, but almost as powerful and brutal. Franz would have been hard-pressed to face him down at peak condition. He was decidedly not in peak condition.

Breathing hard and trying to ignore the streaks of pain across his body, Franz stumbled backwards against yet another of the rider's strikes – and lost his footing on the shifting sands. Collapsing heavily to the ground, he glanced up long enough to see the soldier levelling his lance again. Instinctively, he brought his blade up-

And the impact cracked his sword, sending gleaming fragments over the area. The shock of the blow sent a jolt through his arm, and his blade fell from nerveless fingers.

The rider made no sound as he shifted his lance again, this time aiming at Franz's heart. Throwing himself into a roll, Franz heard the thud of impact as the spear pierced the ground where he'd been a second ago. Pulling himself into a crouch, he looked up in time to see the rider after him again.

And then a blur of movement as Amelia leapt at the wyvern from behind, plunging her lance deep into the underbelly of the creature. The winged beast screamed and flailed wildly, one of its legs lashing out to catch Amelia in the side, sending her crashing to the floor once again.

"Amelia!" Breaking into a run, he swung to a halt as the wyvern crashed to the ground beside him. The wound had obviously been a deep one, and the beast wasn't going to survive much longer. But the wyvern rider himself was still alive and coming towards the both of them.

Quickly, he seized Amelia's lance, waiting for his opponent to strike. As the Grad soldier stabbed at him, Franz dodged, trying to score a blow himself.

The thinner, more delicate nature of Amelia's lance was different from the limited amount of lances that Franz was familiar with – yet another downside. Trying to find an opening, he shifted his stance, aiming at the rider's legs. But his opponent anticipated the move, and with a quick strike, Franz was sent tumbling to the ground once more, another bruise forming on his arm.

As he lay there, trying to recover his breath, he heard the soldier approaching. Slowly, now, almost casually. He had no weapons left… except…

"This ends now." The knight's voice was low as he raised his spear, levelling it at Franz once more.

"Agreed." Throwing himself forward and evading the lance strike, Franz seized his broken sword, lying near the shadow of the wyvern's corpse. As he rose in an upwards swing, the edge caught the wyvern knight in his midsection, spurting dark blood across the land.

Dropping the weapon and praying fervently for there to be no more soldiers on the hunt for them, Franz stumbled over to Amelia. She had been knocked unconscious yet again, this time with a gash over her forehead, losing yet more of her precious lifeblood. Uttering a curse, he picked her up as gently as he could manage.

He took a quick glance over to Neige. There was nothing he could do for his mount now.

"I'm sorry, girl." He whispered as he turned away. Leaving her there to rot in the sun didn't sit right with him, but he had to focus on those he could still save.

* * *

Franz didn't know how long he continued stumbling across the barren land, the muscles in his legs screaming in protest. More than once he stumbled and fell, having to take several long seconds to catch his breath before rising to his feet once more.

_I promised. I promised to protect Amelia._

Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced his legs into action again.

_I can't fail. Not here. Not now._

The sun was relentless, and after a while he began to notice that his vision was going hazy.

_I promised._

One leg after another, one leg after another. Don't think about anything else, don't think about how much there was left to go. Just keep moving.

_I promised._

Sand dune. Uphill. Tired. So tired.

Keep going.

_I._

Keep going.

_Promised._

Keep going.

And then suddenly, shouts, as if from a great distance. Knights… green armour. Frelian.

Within moments they were all around him, pulling Amelia from his arms.

_Help her__, _he wanted to say. _Never mind me, I'm all right. But help her. Get her to safety. Help her._ But his mouth refused to open, refused to form the words.

As he felt strong hands grasp hold of him, the rest of the world faded to nothing.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Wow, this was pretty long.

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	36. Waking

No Longer Alone

* * *

Hi. Thanks for all the review, everyone. I hope that what I write for this chapter will be to you liking. Sorry for taking so long for what's a comparatively short chapter.

Also, the last chapter I wrote received the second largest amount of reviews for a single chapter, tying with Chapter 32 (where Franz went berserk on Amelia) and losing to Chapter 1 (where a lot of the reviews seem to cover the entire story instead of the first chapter alone). Once again, thank all of you so much for the support.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Unh…" Lying in the state between wakefulness and unconsciousness, Amelia slowly became aware, first of the dull ache in her torso, second that she was lying on something soft, and third, that Franz was…

Not there.

"Franz!" She jerked upright, snapped to full alertness, sitting up in a bed with a suddenness that left Neimi visibly surprised, and caused the dull pain in her stomach to intensify into a searing bolt. Letting out a pained gasp, she doubled over, breathing heavily. A moment later, she felt Neimi's arms gently but firmly pushing her back into a sitting position.

"Nuh uh." Her friend shook her head. "No running off and looking for Franz. Not for a while, anyway. He's still in the infirmary, getting looked to."

Amelia took several deep, calming breaths, trying to sort out the jumbled mess of memories in her head. She remembered fighting Valter…and then there was a hazy memory of her lunging at a wyvern with her spear raised… had it been Valter again? She couldn't remember clearly.

But there were also the murky half-dreams of Franz carrying her over the desert sands, moving ceaselessly like some sort of automaton… Had that been real?

"Franz." She said, softer this time. "Where is he?"

"I just told you – the infirmary." The expression of relief on Neimi's face faded somewhat. "When I first saw him after he made his way back, I… well, he was in a bad way."

Amelia got the distinct feeling that Neimi was trying to sugarcoat things as much as possible so she wouldn't be worried. Of course, knowing that _something_ was up but not knowing specifically what it was had a tendency to make people even more worried.

"Neimi?" She closed her eyes, taking in another deep breath. "What happened to Franz?"

* * *

Consciousness was slow in coming – Franz flittered in and out of a deep fog, vaguely aware on him lying down on… on…well, something, but without the ability to discern _what_.

After a few more minutes, though, he was gradually able to discern more of his surroundings. Whatever he was on was soft, if slightly scratchy, which probably marked it as a bed of some kind. A dull ache throbbed through parts of his body – mostly those that had received wounds earlier, when he had been so desperate to rescue –

"Amelia." The word formed around his lips, but they came out a soft, feeble whisper. He wasn't sure that he himself had heard them.

Next he became aware of light – a white fog that obscured details around the room as he cracked his eyes open, peeking a blurred world devoid of detail. Later he would realize that it had been early evening, the light the faint orange he'd usually found appealing to look at, but at that moment it appeared bright enough to sear away his very eyes. Screwing his eyes shut, he lay silent for a while more, letting his awareness expand.

It was cool. Well, no, not really. But compared to the relentless searing heat of the outside desert, even a temperate climate felt cool in comparison. For whatever reason, he had a thin blanket thrown over his body, covering his chest.

The next thing he heard was a soft rustling sound in the corner. Low voices, and then footsteps. Someone else was there.

Pausing a moment to gather up his strength, he pulled himself into a sitting position, noting absently as he did so that he had apparently misplaced his tunic in lieu of a large number of bandages across his torso. He hadn't received _that_ many wounds… had he?

"Ah, you're awake." A strong, calm voice sounded in his ear, and still in the haze of waking as Franz was, it took him several moments to realize that the voice was familiar – familiar in the sense having heard it again for the first time in a very long while…

"General Seth!" He yelped as he scrambled to get out of bed and into a position where he could salute his commanding officer. Notwithstanding the small explosion of pain which burst through his stomach as he did so, he managed to get his legs tangled up in the bed sheets, and would probably have landed in an ungainly heap on the floor had the general not caught hold of him and firmly press him down onto the bed.

"First, you are still off duty, like any other invalid who was on the brink of death not half a day ago. Second, while your adherence to decorum is admirable, I'd much rather you focus on recovering first – you're on strict bed rest for the rest of the week, by the way. And Sister Natasha was rather insistent that you," and here the general handed him a mug. "Drink this upon waking up."

Cautiously, Franz accepted the drink, taking several long sips. Then finally something the general had just said clicked in his head. "Wait, 'brink of death'?" He looked up to his mentor in bafflement.

The Silver Knight sighed. "Multiple wounds covering approximately seventy percent of your body, with three potentially fatal if they had been left untreated. Extremely severe case of heat exhaustion, on the verge of progressing to full-blown heat stroke. Severe blood loss. There's a tale going around that some of the knights who found you weren't sure if you were a revenant at first. Sister Natasha stated rather emphatically that she was surprised you lasted as long as you did, and she, Father Moulder, and several other healers were working on saving you for the better part of five hours." As he finished, Seth raised an eyebrow, apparently content to let the facts speak for themselves.

"What about Amelia? Is she okay?" He blurted out the question a moment before he registered that he'd never mentioned her name to General Seth in any of his letters, but he seemed to understand well enough.

"If you're referring to the soldier you were carrying when they found you, then yes, she's fine – although probably still asleep. For the record, her wounds were far less serious than yours." The General gave a half smile as he pulled up a chair and settled himself next to Franz. "I take it she's also the Grad deserter you were so effusive about in your letters to me."

"I – well, yes." He nodded, heaving a sigh of relief. Amelia was all right, then. He paused for a moment to let the knowledge sink in.

He'd _succeeded_. Where it had really, truly counted, he'd succeeded. He had protected her. He had gotten her to safety.

He'd kept his promise.

He closed his eyes, letting his breath out in another long, slow sigh. As he did so, he found a smile on his face, and another question forming in his mind.

"If you're here…" he began. "If you're here, then it must mean our mission was a success, right? All our forces met up?"

"Indeed we did." The General nodded. "And with the timely aid of reinforcements from Rausten, we were able to rout the Grad forces. We even managed to bring down both the Moonstone and the Tiger Eye. It was a lot trickier than we'd ever anticipated, but at the end of the day, this was our most successful battle thus far."

As the general fell silent, Franz could now hear the sounds of revelry in the distance, some kind of exotic tune along with yells and cheers punctuating the music. He knew from experience that it was the sort of thing that would continue long into the night, and felt a slight twinge that he wouldn't be able to join in the celebration.

"Well, you should be resting now. What you accomplished yesterday was nothing short of phenomenal, so-"

"Phe – phenomenal?" Franz sputtered as he felt his face grow hot. "That's – that's absurd, sir. I was just doing what I had to do. It's not like what I did was anywhere near what you've accomplished, general."

"Isn't it now?" The Silver Knight's smile only grew wider. "That's funny. You were wounded in a confrontation with Valter the Moonstone. You fled, with a young maiden you wished to protect in tow. You fought your way through enemy lines on your own, successfully delivering that maiden to safety. That sounds remarkably similar to one of _my_ exploits, one which you held in rather apparent awe. And let us note that I didn't have to go through a desert in order to succeed in my task."

"I…" Franz began before trailing off. _It's not like what I did was anything great, was it? I just did what I had to do to protect her._

Another throaty chuckle sounded from his mentor. With a shake of his head, he stood and made for the doorway. "Well, even if you do not agree with my assessment, you might as well know that the prince was certainly rather impressed." As he said so, he placed a tiny metal object on the small desk next to the table. Franz glanced over at it and blinked once.

"Rank insignia?" He took a closer look and then jerked away as if it had suddenly morphed into a hissing viper. "A _lieutenant_? Me? Are you – I mean… this isn't…" His voice trailed off into silence as he continued to stare at the metal piece.

"Honestly speaking, your duties aren't going to be substantially changed." Seth's voice was calm. "For one, as my personal apprentice you never interacted very much with the overall chain of command, and this promotion isn't going to change that. And if you're worried about being assigned to take command of a unit, then don't be – there's not really one available anyway." He ran a hand through his red hair. "What it's amounted to is a rather significant boost in reputation and salary. And, well, the ability to order some of the lower hierarchy about if you _really_ wanted to. Amelia, for instance, although I deem it unlikely that you'd do so in her particular case."

"That's not quite what I was talking about…" Franz paused. "I was doing what anyone else would have done in my place. That's not really deserving of such honour."

"Well, 'anyone else' wasn't the one who did it. You were. And if quite so many people were able to accomplish feats like the one you did, then I daresay we'd have received far less casualties than we actually would have." Seth shook his head. "Honestly, Franz, why do you always keep selling yourself short? It's rather jarring."

"I – jarring? What do you mean, sir?"

General Seth opened his mouth to speak, and then he shut it again and shook his head. "No." He finally said. "There'll be time enough for that later. For now, rest." He pointed back to the bed.

Franz obliged, feeling the seeping weariness in his bones rush up to claim him as he lay back to rest his head on the pillow. Still, he continued to ponder the meaning of General Seth's words as he finally went to sleep.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Amelia stepped through the doorway of the room Franz was staying in for the night, and so she wasn't surprised at all to find that he was lying on the bed, eyes closed, looking as if he were completely sound asleep. A couple of candles burned away in the room, filling it with a faint orange glow. With a tiny smile, she turned away, intending to leave him be.

Before she could take a step however, she heard his voice. "Amelia?"

After a moment's hesitation, she turned around, nodding. "Yeah."

The knight pushed himself up so that he could sit on the bed as Amelia walked over, settling herself down on the edge of the mattress. "You okay?" He said softly.

She nodded. "I'm fine." When she'd started walking over to his room her mind had began filling up with things she wanted to tell him, and now there were more than ever, so much that they were all jostling around in her head and she could hardly begin to decide which to say first, and so she said nothing, just sitting there with him until a sudden impulse struck her and she shifted her position, leaning over to embrace him.

"Hey – ow." He said, but in the flat tone of someone who didn't really mean it. She'd been careful not to hug him too tightly

"Thanks." She whispered. "You saved my life again."

A moment later she felt his right up coming up to hold her close as well. "I wasn't going to leave you there, Amelia." He paused, and she could feel him hesitating, unsure about whether he should continue. "You know how much you mean to me, don't you? If anything happened to you… it'd hurt me almost as much as well."

She closed her eyes, nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I… when I found out that you had been so badly wounded for my sake, I… I kinda lost it for a while. I was so worried." She swallowed. "I'm happy that you saved me, but… but a part of me just feels awful that you got yourself so messed up for my sake."

"Amelia, what I did, I did willingly. I'd do it again if I had to."

"… Yeah. I would, too." Releasing him from her hug, Amelia sat in the darkness for several seconds before giving a short laugh. "It's a pretty weird situation, isn't it? We'd sooner give up our lives rather than see the other hurt, but we know that if we died, or even got badly injured, they'd be devastated on our account. It's all just wrapped up and tangled together in a huge pile."

"Yeah, our relationship does seem pretty complicated, doesn't it." Franz said softly.

"Sure does." She sighed.

Pause.

"I still wouldn't trade it for the world, though."

She mirrored his smile, just barely visible in the flickering candlelight, and grasped his hand tightly. "Definitely not." Acting on impulse – she'd been doing that more often recently, hadn't she? – she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Good night, Franz."

He reached up with one hand to brush the spot her lips had touched, a surprised – but not displeased – expression on his face. And then he nodded. "Good night, Amelia."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	37. Torment

No Longer Alone

* * *

And on we go…

Special thanks to Gunlord500 for taking time out to specifically review every single chapter of my work just because I asked nicely. (Although given how frequently he visits, he might not see this until several months after my writing this.)

Anyway, I hope I provide an enjoyable read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"'You were damn lucky, you know."

Franz glanced up, his eyes clouded with fatigue as he caught the gaze of his elder brother. "Thanks. I think I figured that out for myself."

Forde sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Reminds me of the days when I was the reckless one, charging ahead and needing Kyle to cover my back."

"At least I didn't _try_ to get myself into that situation." The young knight pointed out. "It was just the way things happened. I did what I had to."

"Of course. How'd Amelia take being rescued by her knight in shining armour, anyway? I seem to recall her sneaking into your room late last night."

"If you must know, she said 'thank you' very nicely, and told me to get a good night's rest so I would recover faster." He replied. "Not that it's any of your business."

"But how could it possibly _not_ be my business?" Forde questioned as he settled himself onto his bench next to Franz. "After all, it concerns the future of my family, a sister-in-law…"

"I think I prefer you when you're serious." Franz muttered as he turned away towards the mug he held in his hands.

"What makes you think I'm not? Starting a new family is a very weighty affair that requires a large amount of planning and care-"

"I'm going outside." He snapped as he stood abruptly, heading for the exit.

* * *

He'd barely made it out into the sunshine of the sand-blasted courtyard before he heard a shout behind him. Turning, he saw General Seth walking up.

"Yes, General?" He questioned as he pulled himself to attention.

"At ease." The Silver Knight nodded. "Franz, you've no other duties this afternoon, correct?"

"No, sir." Franz shook his head. "We're still in recovery from the Jehenna battle, so most of the knights are off duty for the time being."

"That's good." Seth hesitated for a brief moment. "Franz… we need to talk about getting you a new mount."

He closed his eyes, and nodded. "I understand, sir."

"As it stands, there are several horses whose riders are no longer available." The general didn't go into any more detail. He didn't need to. Those warhorses wouldn't be up for grabs if the person riding them still had any hope of returning to the saddle someday.

"…Any freshly trained ones?" Franz asked. Most mounts tended to form bonds with their respective riders and would thus be uncomfortable with an unfamiliar owner. And even if that weren't the case, many of them would be put off by the different feel of Franz's control, the subtle differences in strength and urgency serving to confuse the horse – not to mention any individual quirks the mounts themselves might have that the old riders had gotten used to. There was of course the argument that an experienced warhorse would be more reliable than one who had never actually been in combat before, but that was a trade-off Franz felt comfortable with making.

"Unfortunately, no." The general ran a hand through his hair. "We didn't have many opportunities to get new mounts during out travels, so, well, the ones that set out from Frelia and Rausten are all we have."

"I see." Franz hesitated before sighing. "General, if I may… I'd prefer to wait."

"Wait?" He could hear the underlying curiosity in his mentor's voice.

"We'll be returning to Renais after this, won't we?" He shrugged. "I'll find a new mount when we're back home. I… I can go without for a little while."

Seth paused, considering the idea, and nodded. "Very well. That is acceptable. I'll let Lord Ephraim know, then."

As the general turned and retreated back into the shadowy hallways of the fort, Franz noticed for the first time that Amelia and Ross appeared to be sparring in the courtyard.

* * *

"Hi_YAH_!" Pivoting on her right foot, Amelia brought her staff smashing down, knocking through Ross' defences and connecting solidly with his midsection.

"Umph!" With a strangled shout, the axefighter was sent sprawling onto the ground in an ungainly heap, leaving Amelia to step back, lower her weapon, and wipe the sweat from her face.

"I win." She said, unable to keep the exuberant grin from her face. She knew Ross had been receiving training from his father, Sir Garcia. So if she could beat him in a duel, that was a sign that she herself was improving, right?

"Yeah, yeah." Ross muttered as he picked himself up and hefted his training hatchet onto his shoulder. "I was holding back, you know."

"What?" She smirked, cocking her head to the side. "You can't handle losing to a _girl_?" She knew she really shouldn't be rubbing it in like this, but the recent rush of positive emotions was making her a little… well, reckless, for lack of a better term.

"Not like that." Ross rolled his eyes. "Look, you know that I've been getting training from my dad, right?"

"How could I not? You never miss an opportunity to complain about it."

"Ha. Ha. Anyway, the both of us use axes, right?"

"Yeah…" Amelia glanced over at Ross' hatchet. "The fighting style of an axe is different from a lance, or even a sword. General Duessel gave me a brief walkthrough on the differences before."

"You've got the General teaching you?" Ross whistled. "Talk about lucky. But anyway, he's right. Axes are made for hitting hard and fast, but they're no good at defending. There's nothing to really block with, after all." He gave his weapon a practice swing at the air. "So if you use mainly axes, you gotta learn how to go all out. Best defence is a good offence, and all that."

"Uh-huh. I'm with you so far."

"But when you're sparring with a friend…" Ross paused and frowned. "You can't do that. You've always got to hold back just enough so that you won't seriously hurt the guy – or girl – if you end up winning."

"Oh, sure." Amelia rolled her eyes. "And I, meanwhile, was in it to smash your skull to a pulp."

"It's not about how hard you hit. It's the way you fight." Ross heaved a sigh. "Trust me – if you ever learn how to use an axe, you'll understand."

"I guess." Amelia chewed at her lip thoughtfully. "Well, it was a pretty good session, wasn't it?"

"Sure was! We'll have to do it again sometime." Ross paused and glanced up. "Man, I'm hungry. I'm gonna go see what they have in the store. See you later!"

"Later." Amelia twirled her staff as she walked Ross walk off. The wooden instrument was a sturdy one, but it was starting to show signs of wear and tear. A testament to how often she used the thing to train, she supposed. She'd have to get a new one soon…

"Nice match." A new voice broke through her thoughts. "You've really improved."

She smiled wryly at Franz. "Flatterer." Then her face creased slightly with worry. "Should you be up? I heard Sister Natasha saying your wounds hadn't fully recovered yet…"

"Yes, I'll be fine as long as I don't exert myself." The cavalier shrugged. "And lying in bed the whole day just doesn't sit right with me."

"Yeah, I guess…" Amelia glanced down at the ground. "Hey, Franz?"

"Hm?"

"We're… we're going to Renais next, aren't we? I mean, I overheard the princess discussing it with some of the officers earlier today."

"I'd think so." The knight swallowed, and for the first time Amelia thought she heard a faint tremor in his voice. "Sir Orson – he's…" He trailed off, glanced at Amelia. "You don't know who Sir Orson is, do you?"

She shook her head. "I don't think I've heard the name."

"He is – _was_ – a knight of Renais. One of the most trusted, too. Ephraim had him as his personal confidante. And then he betrayed us. He left Prince Ephraim to die, he led Princess Eirika straight into a Grad ambush, and the latest reports say he's been given stewardship of Renais." The way he said it was as if he were simply reeling off a list of facts, as if he was trying very hard not to think about what he was saying.

"And so… so we're going to stop him?" Even as Amelia spoke, she felt a trickle of coldness down her gut.

"I guess." Franz sighed. "I never knew Sir Orson very well – I was always closer to General Seth. But General Seth – and Prince Ephraim – _were_ close to him, and I guess it kind of bled through to me a little. The General trusted him absolutely, so I guess it was only natural I would, too. It hit General Seth the hardest, though. After the fight at Renvall, on our way back to Frelia, he was brooding throughout most of it."

"Probably wondering what happened to make him turn against his homeland." Amelia turned to look towards the gates, and past them to the desert lands. "What could possibly justify an act like that."

"Yeah, I guess. We really don't have any idea why he did it, so I guess that makes it hurt all the more." Franz closed his eyes. "Still though… I'm not sure there's _anything_ that could justify what he did."

"You justified it easily enough in my case, didn't you?" Amelia replied, and she was surprised at the bitterness in her own voice. It wasn't even aimed at Franz, a deep part of her realized. Silently, she wondered if she would ever be able to stop tormenting herself over her decision to leave the Grado army.

"No." Franz shook his head and turned to face her. "Amelia, what you did was different. Stop acting like you're a horrible person for what you did. In the end, it was the right thing to do. You said that yourself, remember?"

"Yes, I know. I know." She sighed. "It was the right thing to do in the end, Prince Lyon is up to no good, I can't justify Grado's working with the fiends, and so on and so on. But, Franz, I didn't join you because I disagreed with what Grado was doing or because I found my orders unacceptable or… or… or anything! I became a part of this army because _you were nice to me_!" Her grip on the wooden staff tightened, and she realized her arms were trembling. "How can that possibly be any better than… than whatever it is your Sir Orson betrayed you for?"

"Amelia, stop it!" She felt strong arms reaching out to seize her by the shoulders. "You're not the same as Sir Orson. You are _nothing _like Sir Orson!" She looked into his face, noticing for the first time that her view was blurred by a misty frame that threatened to become actual tears. Hastily she reached up to wipe at her face, before swallowing hard and looking at Franz again.

He paused, took a deep breath, and continued in a softer, but still firm, voice. "You weren't a knight. You didn't sign any oath. You hadn't even finished your _basic training_. Do you know how many years Sir Orson had spent serving Renais?" He let out a long breath and turned away. "You were sent into the frontlines of a war with barely any idea how to fight. You were defeated and captured, had your preconceptions of what your enemy – what _we_ were like – shattered, and treated far better than you expected. And to this day you still hesitate, still doubt yourself whenever we go up against Grado. Do you want to know what Sir Orson did? He lied to us, lied to Princess Eirika, led us deep into a trap. He fully intended to have us all slaughtered. Do you really think anything you've done is comparable to that?" He looked away. "…And don't lie to yourself either, Amelia."

"W – what?" She stammered. Something about the way he looked at her… unnerved her.

"Back when we first met. Even back then, you were starting to wonder. Starting to doubt if Grado really was as good as you wanted to believe it was. I talked to you, remember? In that room…"

"No, I – no." She shook her head violently. "Stop it. Stop trying to make me remember things that didn't happen. I trusted Grado. I trusted my country and I…"

"What?" For the first time since she had started to talk to him, he heard naked anger in Franz's voice. "Amelia, _**stop it**_. You said – your _exact_ words – to Prince Ephraim, that you wanted to fight on the side I was on because you believed it was the right side. What, were you lying to him because you wanted to grasp at any straw that would let you join the Frelian army? Why do you keep beating yourself up over this? Why do you keep insisting on making yourself feel worse than you already do?"

"I…" She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Had she truly said what Franz said she had? Those days seemed like an eternity ago. "I…" A deep breath. "I don't know. Sometimes I don't want to think about it, and then I start feeling guilty for not wanting to think about it. Sometimes at night I just keep replaying the images of all the Grad soldiers I've killed and then when I go to sleep I get nightmares. Sometimes I look at the camp, and I watch all the soldiers here doing ordinary, simple things like eating their meals or napping and I wonder if the Grad soldiers are doing the same thing at that moment. I… I thought it would get easier, that I would care less… But it hasn't! And then I feel guilty about wanting to care less, and I don't know what to do!" As she finished her outburst, she wiped at her face again, grimacing at the warmth on her cheeks.

A moment later she gasped in shock as she felt strong arms encircling her, heard his gentle voice in her ear. "Amelia… I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" She whispered. "What are you sorry for?"

"Everything." He said simply. "This whole lousy war. The fact that you have to fight against your own country. How wretched you feel. Everything."

She chuckled, a watery, burbling sound as it came out past the tightness in her throat. "Stupid." She mumbled. "It's not your fault. None of it is."

"But that doesn't mean I don't wish I could make it better. That I could help you more." She heard a pang in his voice. "I wish I could do more."

She closed her eyes. "Thanks, Franz."

"HEY!" The shout cut through the air, and lifting her eyes, Amelia caught sight of Kyle gesturing for the knights to assemble. Somewhat hesitantly, Franz broke the embrace.

"You'll be all right?" He asked softly.

"Heh. Yeah, I guess." Her smile was rueful. "I… I think I really needed to get that off my chest. I feel better now." She glanced over to the growing huddle. "I guess you should be going."

"Mm. I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah."

* * *

Approximately one hour later, Franz left the meeting with a sigh. It's subject had been more or less what he'd surmised – they were soon to strike out for Renais, partly to re-establish Prince Ephraim and Princess Eirika as the legitimate rulers of the realm, but mostly to remove Sir Orson and the last known bastion of Grad soldiers from his position.

As he stepped out into the sun again he caught sight of General Seth staring forlornly at the sky.

"Sir?" He said softly.

"Hm? Oh, Franz." The Silver Knight smiled tiredly. "Go get some rest – we've no idea what's waiting for us back in Renais, and we need to be ready to meet the challenges ahead of us."

"…As you wish, sir." He hesitated, unsure if what he was about to ask was overstepping his bounds. "General," he began slowly. "Are you unsure about fighting Sir Orson?"

His mentor's face became an impassive mask with frightening speed. "No more unsure than I am when facing down any _other_ enemy of Renais." He replied evenly. "Does that answer your question?"

"…I suppose it does, sir." Franz said softly. He paused. "Well, I'd best go get ready, then. I've still got to get my new armour and weapon from the smiths."

The General made no reply as Franz headed off.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	38. Homecoming

No Longer Alone

* * *

Well, the reviews count kind of fell off a cliff for the last chapter. I personally hope that it was a one off thing, but hey! I broke the 300 hundred reviews barrier! That's not half bad.

As a sidenote, if you're dissatisfied with a particular chapter (or a part of it or… whatever), I'd much rather you told me instead of not saying anything, since that way I'll know where I went wrong and how to fix it instead of being left in the dark and wondering if people like my work or not.

Well, that's enough rambling from me. This chapter's coming out pretty fast from the last one – I guess it's because of a bit more free time than usual.

I hope all you readers enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Oh, Amelia! There you are!"

Raising her head at the sudden remark, she twisted in her seat to look behind her. After they had set out she'd decided that she'd might as well get a bit more practice riding the warhorse. Not that she believed that she'd be ready for any sort of mounted combat by the time they reached Renais, but it was a start.

As she did so, though, she silently wondered how Franz could afford to sit like that for ten minutes at a stretch, never mind the hours that their longer journeys demanded.

In any case, she caught sight of Ewan waving happily to her as he skipped through the marching formations in an attempt to catch up to her. With a shake of her head, she dismounted – she was getting better at it, her foot only got caught for less than three seconds – and landed rather heavily on the ground next to him.

"Hi, Ewan. Didn't see you since the battle for Jehenna." She nodded. "Franz told me you fended off Valter for me. I'm sorry it took so long, but… thanks."

"No big deal." Ewan shrugged, dismissing the matter. "You'd have done the same. Anyone would. But you're right – I wasn't hanging around much after the fight. That's because I met someone I want to introduce you to."

"Oh?" Amelia blinked. "One of your mercenary friends? I heard along the grapevine that Lord Innes met up with a troupe…"

"Yeah, sort of." Ewan glanced back, as did Amelia, and for the first time she noticed another flash of red making its way through the soldiers. As it neared, it became recognizable as the shape of a woman. Her hair was of a darker shade than Ewan's, her movements lithe and graceful, flowing through crowd as the people were no more substantial than vapour.

What also caught Amelia's eye were the tight, form fitting clothes that left very little to the imagination. She understood the concept of mages and the Pegasus knights wearing little or no armour for ease of movement, but this certainly didn't fit any concept of a mercenary that she knew.

"Ewan!" The woman shook her head as she neared him, a disapproving tone in her voice. "You've learnt nothing from your journey on your own, I see. Still running out all over the place, leaving others to clean up after you."

Ewan sighed good-naturedly and raised his hand to indicate Amelia. "Sis, this is Amelia, the girl I told you about. Amelia, this is Tethys, my sister."

"A pleasure meeting you, my dear." Tethys somehow managed to perform a brief curtsey while the three of them continued walking along the wide path. "Ewan's told me quite a bit about you since we had the opportunity to meet up. Thanks for taking care of him while I wasn't around. I hope he wasn't too much of a nuisance." The tugging at the corners of her mouth betrayed her gentle teasing of her brother

"S – sis!" Ewan sputtered. "That's not how it happened! At all!"

"Meaning _you_ took care of _me_?" Amelia questioned with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Ewan faces took on several different expressions in improbably short time before he settled on a flush coming to his cheeks. "Why did I think introducing the two of you would be a good idea?" He muttered to himself.

"It's a mystery." Amelia turned to Tethys. "Sorry I haven't introduced myself. My name's Amelia. I'm a soldier of…" Suddenly, Amelia realized that she no longer knew which country she considered herself a soldier of. Grado was out, of course, and this was technically the Frelian army, but… well, could she be counted as Renaitian soldier? She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts. "A soldier serving under Lord Ephraim." She corrected.

"Charmed." Tethys gave her a warm smile before her head tilted to the side a bit, as if studying Amelia. "Hmm…"

Amelia glanced down at herself, wondering if she'd gotten a food stain on her clothes somewhere. "Hmm… what?" She ventured.

"No, it's just…" She tapped her chin speculatively. "You've some sort of an aura about you. Some kind of… sadness."

"S – sadness?" Amelia stammered. "I…" Tethys' face creased slightly.

"Amelia, would you mind saying, 'Simon picked a peck of pickled peppers', please?" Tethys' face was serious now. Out of the corner of mind, Amelia noted that Ewan was staring at the both of them with a curious expression on her face and she forced down the impulse to ask what the request was for.

"Simon picked a peck of pickled peppers." She repeated, trying to pronounce each word carefully. As she finished the line, Tethys nodded.

"I thought so. You're from the northern border region of Grado, aren't you?"

"H – how did you – I mean, yes, I am, but how-?"

"Your accent." Tethys replied. "It's pretty distinct – at least to those who've got the ears for it."

"O – oh." Amelia's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're right. I'm from Grado. In fact, I used to be a soldier there."

Tethys' voice was low. "And that's why you're sad. You're worried about it all… and about having to fight against your countrymen."

Amelia made no response.

Abruptly there was someone calling Tethys' name, and she glanced behind. "All right, I'll be there." She turned back to the lancer. "Chin up, Amelia. It's a poor situation, I'll admit, but it should be over soon."

Amelia managed a smile at Tethys before the dancer turned and headed back into the throng. Meanwhile, Ewan sidled up next to her.

"Your sister's… something else." Amelia managed.

"Well, she works as a fortune teller on the side – a lot of it is learning to read the people who come in before they do or say anything, so she's good at that sort of thing. And as a member of our mercenary band, she's been around a lot, so that's probably how she recognized your accent." Ewan glanced up. "If I asked you how you're holding up, would I be retreading ground that Franz's already been through?"

"Huh?"

"I mean… I actually wanted to introduce sis to you earlier – yesterday, but when I went to the courtyard to find you, it seems you were in a pretty intense heart to heart with him." A flash of mischief danced through his eyes. "The hug was what really cued me in that it was supposed to be a private affair, although you could've picked a better spot than the middle of the courtyard."

Amelia sighed and ducked her head. "I'll make a note of it, thanks."

"I live to please." Ewan said drily. "By the way, we-"

Whatever Ewan was planning to say, Amelia never got to hear it. At that moment, a sudden hush descended upon the front lines of the army, quickly spreading through the ranks as the march ground to a stop.

Figuring that her horse would give her enough of a height boost to see what was going on, she hastily clambered up her horse, thankful for once of his great height.

As she finally succeeded in raising her vision above the row of heads, she caught sight of an abandoned, burning husk of a homestead, and two dozen more skeletons of what had once been buildings behind it, all smouldering, with black ash drifting through the ruins.

* * *

"It was probably a bandit attack." Franz recounted morosely as he stared at the ground. As part of the team that Ephraim had sent in to search for clues and survivors, his clothes now bore the faint stench of smoke that refused to go away. "We found a couple of weapons – lousy quality. The Grado army wouldn't have fielded such things."

"Well, what about the fiends?" Ewan questioned. The knight shook his head as he mentally replayed all the evidence they had gathered. "Some of the smarter ones used weapons, right?"

"None of the standard signs of their attacks – the most common fiend type are the Revenants and Entombed, and their claws always bear a distinctive tearing patterns. None of that here."

Amelia swallowed. "But… bandits… they usually…" She shook her head. "They usually don't slaughter. They strike quickly, grab whatever valuables they can, and leave before the knights can show up." A twinge of understanding entered Franz's mind – she'd probably be basing this on her own experience with them all those years ago… He gave her a sympathetic glance, an act made surprisingly more difficult by how low he himself felt just then.

"Right. No survivors… like now… it usually doesn't happen like that." Even the normally determined Ross seemed morose now. Then again, the cavalier vaguely recalled hearing that his mother had been lost to the bandits, so it wasn't any surprise that he too felt the blow harshly.

"That's because _most_ of the time, they actually have to worry about knights showing up." Forde spoke up for the first time. "But ever since Sir Orson took over, the bandits have realized they can raid with impunity." There was a cold glint in his eyes, one Franz could only ever remember having seen once – the night they had received news of their father's death.

"Sir Orson." He muttered. "Grado gave him Renais as a reward for his… services, didn't they? He hasn't done anything for the people ever since he was put in charge of the place. Why? Does he want the whole country to fall into ruin?"

"Some reward." Ross spat. "If he keeps letting them go on like this, pretty soon there won't be any country left. You'd think that if he was willing to sell out for a country he'd take better care of it."

Franz closed his eyes and rubbed them. Off to the side of his eye, he caught the flash of white robes. Even with the pressing need to remove Sir Orson from power as quickly as possible, Prince Ephraim and Princess Eirika had determined that they had to do something to lay the souls here to rest. Accordingly, the priests and clerics of the army were now hurrying to prepare a ceremony to commend the spirits of the victims to the everlasting.

He watched their work for a while – noting absently that ever since Joshua had reunited with Natasha he'd spent nearly every waking moment in her vicinity and that now was no exception – but then he had to turn away, walking towards the perimeter of the camp they'd established for the night, feeling the churning in his gut.

Even as he watched the orange glow of the sun sinking slowly towards the horizon as the amber glow slowly began to fade to the deep blues of nights, he couldn't help thinking about the villages he'd saved from the bandit raid way back when they had first started on their journey towards Renvall. Despite his exhaustion, he'd been elated that he had managed to protect the populace.

"Hey." At the sound of Amelia's voice, he half-turned to watch her approach. Even through the thickening gloom of dusk, he could see the concerned expression on her face. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged. "About as well as can be expected." He paused. "I'd have thought you'd be with Neimi – she hasn't reacted well to the reminders of bandit attacks." He briefly recounted her tale of having lost the rest of her family and friends to raiders.

"Yeah, I know." She replied. "But you're not taking it so well either. And Neimi – well, she's got Colm. He's with her right now, actually." Her voice softened. "I'd feel like I was intruding if I went to talk to her."

The knight managed a brief smile. "I guess so." He turned away to continue to stare into the gloomy land before him as Amelia came up beside him. At such a close distance, he could clearly see the pain in her eyes. So many of them had suffered losses to the bandits before – this just bought the agony home again.

He was silent for a long while. "I'm a knight of Renais." He finally said softly.

"Of course you are." Amelia said as she stood by his side, watching the darkness as well. "And a fine one, too."

"And a knight… a knight swears a vow." He cast his gaze over the land – now he could see the faintest pinpricks of light that marked other outposts and villages, all part of the land he called home. "A vow to serve his king... and his country." He closed his eyes and let out his breath in a long deep sigh. "And yet I couldn't do anything to protect the people here. How many of them died wondering where the knights were? Where the soldiers who had sworn to protect them were?"

"Hey." Amelia's voice was sharper than he had expected, and he opened his eyes to look her in the face. Her green eyes bore a steady determination in them as she gazed at him. "They were – no, _you_ were on a campaign taking you all over the continent, trying to stop the Emperor and the fiends from overrunning the whole world. You think things would be any better if you camped yourself in front of the village gates and drew your sword at every threat that came by? Franz, you can't be everywhere at once."

He shook his head. "I have a responsibility to these people-"

"And you fulfilled it. By fighting to free this land – by fighting to overthrow Emperor Vigarde and Prince Lyon and whoever else is trying to destroy the Sacred Stones. Are you seriously claiming you shirked your responsibility at any one point?"

He clenched his fist. "Tell that to the people of Amhaus." He spat out.

_Smack._

It took a moment for his cheek to feel the sting, and he gazed with confused eyes at Amelia. She shook her hand once, shaking the sting of the slap away, and sighed.

"Someone I look up to very much told me yesterday that I shouldn't beat myself up over things that I can't change, that I shouldn't insist on making myself feel worse than I already do." She looked up to him. "I think that applies here, don't you?"

"…" Franz gazed up at the night sky, one hand reaching up to massage his sore cheek. "Did he also tell you how much he wished that this stupid war would end, and that we could all focus our energy on rebuilding?"

"Come to think of it, he did say something to that effect."

Silence descended upon the two of them for several minutes. Then Franz looked behind him.

"The vigil should be starting soon. Shall we head back?"

Amelia nodded wordlessly, and the two of them turned back towards the camp, the centre marked for once by the soft glow of candles instead of the roaring flame of a campfire.

* * *

The deeper Franz journeyed into Renais, the more the devastation of the land became apparent.

The populace – well, there was no kind way to put it – they were living in fear. Bandit raids, from what the knights could discern, were a daily occurrence – at least one town _somewhere_ was hit, crops, tools, and sometimes people carried away, never to be seen again.

Land trade had ground to a standstill – none of the Carcino merchants dared send their goods through the land without a guard. Of course that meant that the bandits who had hitherto preyed upon the slow caravans were now turning their attention to the villages as well.

And of course, all over the land, roaming in wild packs, were the Fiends. Attacking indiscriminately, signs of their presence manifested themselves in bloody trails, ruined villages, and corpses piled up across the countryside.

Prince Ephraim bore this as stoically as he ever did, his face seemingly carved from stone whenever he came across yet another sign of the country's decay. Princess Eirika was just as silent, but her face was a mask of absolute agony. Once he'd noticed Tana having to support her friend as they came across another destroyed settlement.

Daily they continued their trek across the realm, and yet no challenge from Sir Orson. No word of him mobilizing his forces to meet them in battle. All the news they received simply pointed to one thing – that he was holed up in the Castle, doing nobody knew what.

During one of their increasingly infrequent rest stops, Franz settled himself by the roadside, drinking slowly from his water skin. A moment later, Amelia settled himself beside him.

"I wish you could have seen Renais in its unspoiled state." He said softly. "Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still envision a land that seemed so vibrant… so _alive_. And now the very dirt and soil seem to be rotting." He glanced down at the yellowing grass. "It's like the Fiend's presence is destroying the very earth."

"Especially without the power of the Stones to counter all this." Amelia rested her gaze on the mountains in the distance. "I've never seen Renais before, but it still holds enough beauty for me to realize that it must have been a wonderful place once. I guess in some ways it just makes everything hurt even more."

"So even when we defeat Sir Orson, it won't be over." Franz said morosely. "Even when we reclaim Renais, we'll still have to set out again, hunt down the source of the Fiends." He laughed, briefly and without humour. "The past few fights I kept thinking, 'This is it. This is the big one. Get through this and maybe it'll finally end'. But now… now I just don't know anymore."

He hung his head, feeling his forehead rest against his stained trousers. A moment later, he felt a hand covering his and grasping it supportively. He looked up, catching Amelia as she gave him a smile.

"Chin up, Sir Franz, brave knight of Renais." She said softly. "We've made it this far together, and we'll make it through whatever else lies ahead. Even if there's still a long way to go – every step we take is one step closer to our goal, isn't it?" She paused. "A land at peace again. We'll get there one day."

He let out a breath through his mouth, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out his eyes. Then he smiled slowly. "Yeah, you're right. We will."

He stood, taking the hand Amelia offered him as the call to resume the march was sounded. By his estimate, there would be one more day until they reached the Capital.

_Sir Orson…_ He thought as he continued plodding steadily forward. _Your reign is over._

(X)

From the vantage point atop her horse, Amelia kept watch over Franz as they continued their journey.

She knew that he wasn't usually as mopey as he was right now – the shock of coming back to a devastated homeland must have been immensely trying for him. Briefly, she wondered about the other knights that called Renais their home as well. Were they holding up as well as Franz?

Too, she wondered if how he was feeling right now was in any way comparable to her own aching grief about fighting against Grado. Both of them were thrown into situations where their beloved homelands had been ruined – in different ways, perhaps, but ruined all the same – by people who apparently cared for nothing more than their own personal gain.

She rubbed at her eyes, a rueful expression on her face. Franz had always been there for her in her lowest moments, whenever she needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to lean on. Now it was her turn to support him, and she swore to herself that she wasn't going to let Franz down.

Raising her eyes, she caught sight of another stone citadel in the distance, and for a moment she wondered at the feeling of déjà vu that she received. It was similar enough to the Grad Capital that for a moment she thought she was back there again, about to storm it.

_Get a grip._ She told herself. _There can't be that many soldiers here, and the Grad Castle was always the most solid fortress on Magvel. Assaulting this won't prove anywhere as difficult._

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that all the troops that hailed from Renais were now moving forward to the front of their army. Lord Ephraim continued staring at the bastion for some time, and silently Amelia wondered what he was thinking at that moment.

Then he raised his arm and swung it forward in a chopping motion.

_All units, advance._

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Woo, pretty Franz-centric.

Thanks for reading, please review.


	39. Fallen

No Longer Alone

* * *

I'm back! And we're getting more good games than ever. Finding writing time is getting a bit difficult, sometimes. Oh well. I hope what I've written here is to your liking.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Franz wasn't sure exactly when Lord Ephraim had found a dragon willing to join their party, but there was definitely now one looming in front of the Castle Gates, golden scales flashing brightly with each small movement of its powerful muscles, jaws open wide as it released a blast of energy from its gaping maw. He took a half-step back from the creature, and he noted out of the corner of his eye that he wasn't the only one. By contrast, Ephraim and Eirika stood unmoving beside the massive creature, gripping their weapons tightly.

Once, twice, and with the third strike the heavy gates gave way, crumbling to darkened ash as the creature seemingly vanished in a flash of light. He saw the prince give the slightest of approving nods from out of the corner of his eye.

Instantly, General Seth, leading the main bulk of the army forces, charged forward, his weapon gleaming silver in the sun. Sweeping across the (badly overgrown) courtyard, they cut through the surprised defenders of the castle almost before they could raise their weapons to fight back, and Franz felt a pang inside him as he was reminded of just how far he had to go before he could reach his mentor.

However, despite the General's and his retinue's best efforts, the sturdy doors to the palace itself were shut and barred before he could gain entrance to the interior of the castle. Acting quickly on prearranged battle plans, the forces spread out, acting in concert to provide cover for the siege units that now scrambled to force open the castle doors as quickly as possible.

So caught up was he in watching the well-rehearsed manoeuvres of the army that he almost missed his cue. But in the end a small voice at the back of his head reminded him that he had elsewhere to be, and he turned to regard the small band behind him.

"Let's go."

* * *

"_Franz?" The voice was gentle. Hesitant. The young knight looked up._

"_Yes, milady?" He questioned as he snapped off a quick salute, which she quietly returned._

"_I heard about your recent promotion from the General." She managed a smile that almost succeeded in driving the bags under her eyes. "You've really grown from the quiet knight I first set out with."_

_He shook his head. "It's an honour I don't deserve, my lady."_

"_Oh?" There was a hint of the melancholic to her smile now, before she nodded. "Be that as it may. I – we've decided to assign you a task befitting your new rank."_

_Franz could only think back to the words General Seth had reassured him with back when he'd received his new rank insignia and he suppressed an urge to sigh. "I'll gladly help in whatever way I can, my lady."_

"_Yes, I thought you might say that." She paused, ran a hand through her hair. "The assault on Castle Renais begins tomorrow."_

"_Yes…"_

"_And, well, you're one of the few people in the army who know their way around the castle very well. We've precious few knights of Renais left in the army. Most of them are prisoners or... Well, most of them are prisoners." She turned away. "The plan tomorrow calls for a focused frontal assault on the Castle itself."_

"_I know. Prince Ephraim briefed us earlier this morning."_

"_Right. What he didn't tell the populace at large is that he wants a smaller strike team to assault from the side."_

"_The… side? Wait, hold on." A frown creased Franz's forehead. "The supply-run door-"_

"_Exactly." Her smile turned encouraging. "As the main force stages an all-out assault from the front, it should draw the majority of defenders towards them. It should be pretty easy for a small strike force to flank them and add confusion to their ranks from the supply-run door."_

"_And… you want me to lead the strike force?"_

"_That's the long and short of it." She nodded again._

"_Uh, wouldn't someone like Forde or Sir Kyle be better suited to this task?"_

"_Well, Sir Forde and Sir Kyle are a part of Prince Ephraim's personal retinue, which is a fairly prestigious position any way you slice it. Not to mention they've met with Sir Orson before. We don't want to the risk of them wondering why important people who should be at the frontlines aren't."_

"_Meaning I'm not prominent enough for my absence to be noticed." He let out a brief snort of laughter._

"_Well, if we're going to be blunt… yes." She ducked her head, as if acknowledging this fact still went against the gentle, uplifting nature. "You're not a major player in the army – or at least you weren't the last time Sir Orson laid eyes on you, but you're still extremely competent. That's what we need right now."_

_He glanced away, feeling several conflicting feelings play out. On one hand, he __**was**__ honoured that they would consider him for such an important position. On the other hand, precisely because it was such an important position…_

"_Are you sure that such an important task should be given to a greenhorn lieutenant?" He glanced away, towards the ground._

"_The same lieutenant that carved his way through an enemy battalion in the middle of a desert to rescue a single soldier he'd promised to protect?" Eirika chuckled._

"_It didn't happen like that at all. For one thing, I didn't 'carve my way through', I was just trying to ride through the soldiers as quickly possible while fending off attacks. Also, I-"_

_The princess nodded, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Regardless, you've been through the very worst this war has to offer thus far, and you've handled it admirably. I've absolutely no doubt in my mind that you'll succeed at this task."_

_With a weary sigh, Franz nodded his acceptance._

* * *

"Let's go."

As Amelia heard Franz speak those words she noted a flash of uncertainty on his face. Well, it _was_ the first time he was taking command of a unit, no matter how small…

Quickly, she glanced over the rest of their party. Ross, Ewan, Colm, Neimi, a magician who identified herself as Lute, her friend Artur, along with a few others she didn't recognize and hadn't introduced themselves. Well, when it came down to it, they should all be able to hold their own against whatever they ran into…

As the only one who had spent any significant amount of time in the castle (as well as being the leader – truth be told, she wasn't entirely used to the idea of her gentle friend being in _command,_ and she suspected that she wasn't alone.) Franz led the way through what appeared to be a solid thicket of trees, slipping through a barely noticeable gap. The others promptly followed, although Amelia noted with some amusement that the more heavily-armoured members of their team had some difficulty in moving quietly.

"You know," Colm began in a grumpy tone as he ducked a low-hanging tree branch. "For a door supposedly used for bringing in supplies, it's kinda hard to reach."

"Oh, there's a road." Franz assured him. "Paved. Nice and wide for the carthorses. With no cover whatsoever. All in all, I felt this was the preferable option."

Colm opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by an arrow suddenly appearing with a 'thwak!' sound in the tree trunk next to him. Beside her, Neimi quickly loosed her own arrow, and was rewarded with the fall of one of the dark shapes that everyone now saw were milling around the edge of the trees.

_Not good._ Amelia thought as she increased her speed as much as possible, trying to get within striking range of the soldiers. They'd known the way to the side would most likely have been guarded, of course, but the enemy appeared to be stationed here in considerable force.

A soldier charged her, axe slashing down. Pivoting, Amelia swept the ground with the blunt end of her lance, sending the soldier tumbling. Before he could rise, she quickly put a lance through his leg, leaving him to howl in pain and anger as she turned to seek out her next foe.

Most of the soldiers in the vicinity didn't appear to be Grad soldiers – at least, not if their armour and equipment were anything to go by. An overall lack of uniformity, and several of the soldiers being severely underequipped…

_A mercenary band of some sort?_ Amelia continued fighting her way through the crowd. _Or have supply issues become so severe?_

And then suddenly she was clear of the thicket, and remaining enemy soldiers were either surrendering or fleeing. She watched the deserters with an air of detached interest, wondering where they planned to go.

"This way, guys." Franz called again, and then they were gathered around a small wooden door – enough, Amelia estimated for two people to go through side by side.

"Locked." Colm said as they caught sight of the heavy iron padlock placed over the entrance.

"Which is why you're here." Franz gestured, and Colm set upon the lock with a slight smirk.

"I don't see the need for this." Lute shrugged as the watched, several of the soldiers fanning out to provide a defensive formation.

"Well, I'm guessing Prince Ephraim wants the Castle to be as intact as possible for when he reclaims the place." Ewan shrugged as he flipped idly through his spell tome. "Anyway, Franz's in charge right now. What he says goes."

"Got it." Colm stepped back as the door swung open.

"All right, Ross, Ewan, you're in the rear. Lute, Artur, back the two of them up." Franz paused for a slight moment. "Amelia, you're with me. We'll lead the way. The rest of you, form up behind and follow."

She nodded and hurried over to his side. "Got it."

The journey through the castle was strangely unsettling – they could shouts and cries of battle, but none of the enemy soldiers ever appeared before them. For that matter, no servants or squires or… any of the people she assumed would have business inside a castle.

In fact aside from themselves, they had yet to run into a single living being.

Franz's steps were becoming more hesitant, his sword held at a low angle in front of him.

"We're close to the throne room now." He said softly. "This was the fastest path there."

"And no guards?" Amelia questioned as scouted the next room. Empty, like all the others.

"Yeah. Something's wrong." Franz shook his head. "We need to find Sir Orson as quickly as possible." Turning, Franz signalled the rest of the squad to pick up the pace.

"He should be at the throne room." Amelia said softly as she increased her stride to keep up with Franz. "But, shouldn't we wait for the rest of the army?"

"They're tying down the rest of Orson's own forces." Franz pointed out as he increased his stride. "The longer we take, the more chances we give Sir Orson to escape."

"But…" She glanced back at the rest of them. "Isn't this kind of risky?"

Franz hesitated, turning back to the rest of the soldiers. He heaved a sigh. "I'll bear the responsibility for anything that goes wrong." And then he turned and continued deeper into the castle.

* * *

If anything, Franz reflected, the sounds of fighting we getting louder. He didn't know exactly how far away it all was, but given how long it'd been since the start of the battle, he was willing to bet that they'd managed to make significant inroads into the building.

The throne room was located almost dead centre in the middle of the castle, and had been agreed upon as the primary target, and so as Franz jogged hurriedly up the last flight off stairs to the throne he wondered if the main army were anywhere close.

It was at that point that they ran into their first actual resistance since having breached the castle walls. A trio of armoured soldiers stood guard at the doorway to the throne room, holding their axes over the shoulders In a bored fashion.

As he entered their line of sight, they quickly snapped into a battle ready stance. Beside him, he heard Amelia breathe in quickly as she moved forward as well, lance at the ready.

As the axefighters neared they split up, two to deal with Franz, one moving to the side to face off against Amelia. Franz dodged a wide axe swing, and strucked back, his sword biting deep into his opponent's arm, and the enemy fell back with a shriek. He swung around to check the second warrior who had been trying to flank him.

Franz was more manoeuvrable than the enemy and so he dodged under the next strike before kicking at his opponent. His foe hopped back slightly, giving the cavalier the opening he needed to stab his sword forwards, straight through the soldier's belly.

Beside him, a short war cry served to inform him that Amelia had succeeded in finishing off her own opponent as well.

"What took the rest of you so long?" He questioned rhetorically as the rest of the group came into view.

"Apologies." One of the Frelian knights responded. 'We ran into some thieves. It appears they were attempting to loot the place."

"… They've been dealt with?"

The knight nodded wordlessly in reply.

_I get the feeling a lot of them don't think much of me as a leader._ Franz thought to himself. _Well, I'm not particularly interested into continuing to be one, so as long as we can keep it together until after this fight…_

"All right, let's move into the throne room. We'll have to take them as hard and fast as possible." He glanced briefly at Amelia. "I'll lead the way, the rest of you follow up and give support."

Quickly, two knights took up positions on either side of the entrance. There was enough to give to it to signify that it hadn't been barred. With a deep breath, they pushed, hard, swinging open the ornately carved doors as Franz charged through –

Into an empty room.

After quickly turning around to ascertain all four corners of the place were indeed empty, he hesitantly detailed several of the knights to spread out and search for more clues as an uncomfortable feeling began to settle into the pit of his stomach.

"Franz!" He turned around as he saw General Seth enter the room, closely followed by Prince Ephraim, both of them holding weapons at the ready. "I didn't expect you to make it here ahead of us."

"Neither did I. But we encountered practically no resistance on our way here." He indicated the rest of the soldier's who'd come with him. "So we weren't slowed down at all."

"Hm. Worrisome." Seth noted. "Truth be told, the defences we had to fight through were underwhelming as well."

"Commander." A young soldier ran up to the General and saluited. "We've secured the area from the front court to the throne room. No more hostile units in the vicinity."

"I see. And Sir Orson."

The squire shook his head. "No sign of him, sir."

Seth let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. "I see. All right, good work. Dismissed."

"He might have escaped already." Ephraim suggested as he surveyed the throne room.

"That appears likely. Regardless, there remains a large area of the castle that we've yet to search – or for that matter, reclaim." The General turned to Forde and Kyle, standing in the entrance to the room. "Gather our forces. We'll be redistributing them into search parties."

"Understood, sir."

* * *

"So where are we now?" Amelia questioned as she rounded the corner down yet another corridor.

"Well, this is the residential wing for the higher ups."

"So… bedrooms?"

"Yeah, more or less."

"Sheesh." Amelia muttered. "They're bigger than some of the houses back in Silva." _Including mine._

Franz kept silent at that. Further behind them, Colm and Neimi were following up, ostensibly covering franz and Amelia's backs.

Truth be told, they'd once again met absolutely no one ever since they started venturing deeper into the castle. She suspected that it might have been a different story had she been part of the groups assigned to search the dungeons, but she saw no reason for anyone to have decided to make a last stand in the sleeping rooms, and she said as much to her friend.

He shrugged. "Well, it's our job and I'd rather we complete it well."

"Yeah." Amelia sighed. "It's just… it's kinda odd. I mean, we all thought that we'd find some holdouts from the Grado army her, but it turns out that most of those men were just mercenaries, and not very loyal ones at that, based on quickly they gave up. And then this Sir Orson that we're supposed to be hunting vanishes and we're stuck skulking around this empty place. Seriously, it's giving me the creeps."

Franz gave a slight chuckle at that. "We're almost at the master bedroom," he noted, in a voice so low Amelia had to strain to hear him.

"And one more thing," she finished. "What on earth is that rancid smell?"

Franz frowned. "I don't know. You're right, though, that smell's been getting stronger for a while." He glanced up at the doors to the master bedroom. "But why would the bedroom for the king and queen have anything that would smell that bad?"

Amelia sighed. "Only one way to find out, I guess." Reaching out, she grasped the handle of the door and began to pull.

"**NO!"** The scream of rage was almost incoherent, almost inhuman as a dark shape burst forth from a nearby alcove, already raising a sword above his head. "You will not _**TAKE HER FROM ME!**_"

Amelia jumped back by instinct as the sword slashed downwards, cleaving apart the handle she'd been pulling as it had been made of brittlewood and not the solid oak it actually was. Her uncontrolled leap had her hitting the floor hard, but she quickly threw herself into a roll, getting back to her feet as she heard the clanging sound of Franz's own sword meeting Sir Orson's – she assumed it was Sir Orson – and forcing him back.

"Amelia! Franz!" She heard Neimi's cry, heard the pounding of boots as Colm quickened his pace to reach them, and she began to move forward as well.

The two current combatants were locked in a contest of strength, both trrying push each other back. Franz's eyes were narrowed, teeth gritted, muscles straining. His opponent's eyes were alight with a madness and fury she'd never seen before in anyone else's – not even Valter. A slight, sneering grin tugged at the edges of his man's mouth, leading one to draw further conclusions about his sanity. His clothes hung about him in loose rags, and Amelia suspected that his madness was the only thing fuelling his strength.

Abruptly both of the swordfighters broke away before charging at each other again, slashing at each other with seemingly wild abandon. Amelia hesitated, if she could get an opening from the back…

Suddenly she felt the hairs on her neck stand on edge at the same time that Sir Orson's sword began to glow an dark, unpleasant purple. Before Franz could react, a bolt of dark magic slammed into him, sending him sprawling. Even as Amelia watched, tendrils of the arcane magic snaked up towards Sir Orson, sinking into his body and revitalizing him. She saw a cut he'd received on his jaw seal itself over, leaving no indication that it had ever been there.

Franz meanwhile, landed hard on the floor, coughing and spasming. After a moment, he tried to pull himself to his feet, but he was apparently too drained – he collapsed a second time.

"You've come to take her away." Orson said calmly, his fury vanishing abruptly. Too calmly, in fact. "But I won't let you. We belong here. Forever. I and-"

He was cut off as an arrow skipped past him, Neimi having flubbed her shot. As he turned to regard his new assailants, Amelia finally reached him, lance coming up to strike at his breast.

His sword was brought up, knocking the lance away, and with a silent curse Amelia shifted her stance, giving herself better balance. With a quick skip to the left, she had placed herself between the crazed knight and sir Orson.

"You won't harm Franz." She snapped. "I won't let you." _I will protect him, no matter what._

"Who are you?" He demanded, eyes wild again. "You're one of them, aren't you! All of you… all of you want to take her from me! But I won't let you! You can't have her!"

Taking a deep breath, Amelia tuned out his ravings. She had to defeat him, no matter what he said. And of course, she had to make sure whatever dark magic his sword was imbued with wasn't turned on her as well.

He charged again, this time bringing his sword upwards in a low underhand swing.

Amelia dodged nimbly, always barely evading the man's wild slashes. It was obvious that he'd become skilled enough to have a fair bit of technique drilled into him by instinct, by he simply wasn't fighting with any tactics behind him.

Stabbing forward with her lance, she actually managed to tear the outside of his tunic before he knocked it away again, turning the defensive manoevere into a quick strike at her stomach in the process.

Falling back again, Amelia shook her head. It was obvious that she couldn't beat him in a contest of strength. But she _could_ outwit him, if only because he appeared to be completely out of his gourd.

Timing herself, she struck again with her lance, and he knocked it away contemptuously again – only for her to release her grip on her lance as he did so. The weapon was sent flying until it thudded into the wall and fell harmlessly to the floor.

Surprised by the sudden lack of resistance, Orson stumbled forward. A combination of two techniques that had happened before over the course of her journey, only now, of course, it was on purpose.

Before he could recover, she'd drawn her dagger again. Her right hand slammed down hard on his sword arm, stunning it for the split-second she needed, and she struck.

Sir Orson, former knight-general of Renais, staggered back, stricken eyes staring at the blossoming stain on his tunic. He took another shaky step forward, eyes staring sightlessly past the lancer, reaching out to grasp something only he could see.

"M… monic…" He mumbled something Amelia couldn't quite catch before slumping to his knees, pitching forward and landing heavily.

"Franz!" Turning, she squatted down by the wounded knight. "Are you all right?"

He drew in a few deep, gasping breaths until Amelia helped him to sit up. A moment later, Neimi joined them, Colm trailing behind.

"Sorry about not helping more." Neimi said apologetically. "But I couldn't keep firing into a melee."

Amelia acknowledged it with a nod as Franz began to recover some of his strength, aided by a vulnerary Colm provided. Finally, he stood, still gasping for breath, but at least able to move under his own volition.

"Sir Orson…" He began.

"Dead." Amelia glanced backwards. "I think he was guarding this room, like he really didn't want anybody to go in."

"So what's inside?" Colm raised an eyebrow. "Treasure?"

"He _did_ keep talking about a 'her' that he didn't want anyone to take away."

Franz shrugged. "Well, like Amelia, said, there's only one way to find out."

Grabbing the handle that was still intact, he slowly pulled open the door.

* * *

Several minutes later, Franz delivered his report to General Seth and asked to be excused, citing that he wanted to go to sleep and forget what he had just seen.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review.

By the way, go buy Scribblenauts.


	40. Nobility

No Longer Alone

* * *

I'm baaack. And here's the latest chapter.

I hope it's to your liking.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Hey."

Amelia glanced up from her cot, where she had been resting and nursing a bruised arm after the latest fight. "Hey." She replied to Neimi as she sat up. "Everything okay?"

Neimi managed a tight smile. "About as well as can be expected, I guess. None of us were really prepared for… that."

Amelia felt a shudder pass through her as the memory flashed through her mind once more. The desiccated body sprawled out over the bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, mouth mindlessly repeating the same word over and over again…

"Anyway," Neimi spoke up again, dispelling the silence that had fallen over the room. "I've been sent to fetch you. The general wants tot talk to you."

"Sir Duessel?" Amelia said as she sat up, swinging her feet over the edge of the cot. "What would he want-"

"No, no. The _Renais_ general. The, um, the one with the red hair." Neimi glanced to the side. "I think his name is Seth or something."

"Right." The lancer's frown only deepened as she followed Neimi into the castle. She'd thought Franz had gone off to give them a debriefing earlier – why would they call her now?

At any rate, she shortly found herself in the throne room of the Renais Castle. Most of the telltale signs of the earlier battle had been hastily cleared away, and several high ranking officers and lords were clustered around a circular table studying several maps, with several regions circled in red.

"Um…" She began hesitantly, and at the sound of her voice, the Silver Knight of Renais glanced up. "I was told that you wanted to see me… sir?"

"I do indeed." He nodded slightly. "Perhaps we should retire to a slightly more secluded area."

After the two of them moved to a corner of the hall, he turned to her with folded arms. "I've been told you were the one who finally succeeded in taking down Sir Orson." He nodded respectfully. "For someone as young as you to have defeated a General of our army is no small feat."

"It… it wasn't as big a deal as that, sir." She swallowed. "Sir Orson was… he wasn't… entirely rational, I think. His fighting abilities were… severely compromised."

"Yes, so I was informed." The general was now frowning. "Be that as it may, the fact remains that you've a rather significant accomplishment under your belt." The general shrugged. "Since you're nominally a part of the Frelian Army, and Prince Ephraim leads it, he's decided to promote you. – as well as handing over a reward of some kind."

The general's lines were delivered in as flat and disinterested a manner as he could manage, but he was a soldier, not a thespian, and Amelia could see the pain in his eyes. She wondered how it would be to have to congratulate someone else on having killed one of her former friends, and she suppressed an urge to wince in front of the general.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, so if you've no questions…"

"Actually, sir…" Amelia hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was to pour salt on open wounds, but her curiosity had gnawed at her relentlessly ever since they had discovered the… thing in the bedroom. No, even before that – from the moment she had learnt that Sir Orson had been a traitor to Renais. "Do you… do we know why Sir Orson turned his back on his homeland?"

The Silver Knight folded closed his eyes. After a long moment, he sighed – a long, slow exhalation of weariness and sorrow.

And then he nodded once.

* * *

Franz continued staring at the ceiling of the room he'd been assigned to. It wasn't his old from back when he'd stayed here – apparently that particular area had been too badly damaged by the fighting. Of course the new room was sharing it with half a dozen other people, but right now they were all… somewhere else and he honestly couldn't find it in himself to care about them.

He'd claimed that he'd wanted to sleep when he retired to his bunk, and a part of him did indeed want nothing more than for the darkness to claim him and for all the memories to – however temporarily – go away.

But it was precisely because of the memories that rest eluded him right now.

_What happened? Why couldn't I protect Amelia? Why did I…_ The thoughts trailed off again, swirling off to join the other mix of questions jumbled up in his head.

_Why did Sir Orson keep that corpse in his bedroom? Where were the Grad remnants that were supposed to be here defending the place?_ _And why didn't I prepare myself from an attack from a Runeblade? Sure they're rare, but given that Sir Orson had plenty of time to loot the treasuries for whatever he wanted, I should have anticipated something like that._ A hand reached up to cover his eyes. _And I wasn't able to help Amelia at all. If she hadn't been able to outmatch Sir Orson…_

His hands subconsciously balled into fists. _Just one fight after I succeeded in rescuing her back in the desert… Was I careless? Or was I just not good enough?_ He couldn't be certain that the threats they'd face after this would be any less dangerous than before. There was at least one other Grad general still alive and unaccounted for – not to mention the ever increasing number of the fiends. If he was going to continue like this, he'd need to become stronger.

Stronger… His gaze shifted to his field pack. Within were the few personal artefacts he always wanted at his side… and the Knight's Crest he'd been given back on the ship.

After a slight pause, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sat up – and there was a soft knocking on the door.

"Yes?" He questioned softly, and as the door swung open he saw Amelia in the doorway, her face pale. There was an expression that that Franz couldn't quite read, but it definitely wasn't a good one.

"You okay?"

"Kinda… shaken up." Her forced smile faltered. "Hope it's not a bother right now, but I just… I don't really want to be alone."

"It's fine." He gestured towards his bed and sat down on it himself. "I'm still a bit freaked out, myself. I never expected to find something like that in the castle."

"I guess." She paused. "But… that's not really what I was talking about."

He turned back to regard her. "Then…?" The question hung heavily in the air for a long moment.

Amelia bit her lip. "Franz… I… I found out why Sir Orson… why he betrayed your country. It's…"

He clasped her shoulder gently. "Are you alright? If it's too much trouble to talk about it right now, then-"

"No, it's not that." She took another deep breath. "Franz, that… that _thing_ we saw in the bedroom was… it was Sir Orson's wife."

The words failed to fully register in his brain for several long moments, and so he sat there silently until he shook his head. "Lady Monica? But that's… no." He felt a strange clenching sensation in his stomach, and suddenly he realized he had balled his fists. "She'd died before the war even started."

"Yeah… Did General Seth tell you? He said that it was around that time that General Orson changed. He became more sullen and withdrawn."

"He did." The young knight nodded slowly. "I remember seeing it too. Once when a recruit tried to ask him for some help on steadying his grip on his lance he just about blew up in his face. I remember it being odd because… well, Sir Orson was always going out of his way to help out the greenhorns." He paused. "Come to think of it, that was why Lord Fado sent Sir Orson out on the expedition with Sir Ephraim – he thought getting some exercise and work would help Sir Orson pull himself together."

"Right…" Amelia sighed. "And while General Seth and Lord Ephraim still aren't sure just when it happened… they believe that Sir Orson… he agreed to betray Renais if…" She was trembling now, having to pause to collect herself multiple times before continuing. "If they would…"

The pieces were beginning to fall into place for Franz as well. "You don't mean-" He glanced upwards, in the general direction of the royal bedchamber. "Lady Monica?"

Amelia shook her head. "He was willing to help undermine Renais because he wanted his dead wife back." She let out a weak laugh. "Do you know what scared me, Franz? When Prince Ephraim overheard what we were talking about, he stopped by and offered his own view. He said that Orson was mad… but that he was also happy." She clutched at her own shoulders. "I don't understand. He betrayed his country and army, and for… for _that_… and Prince Ephraim could say that he was happy?"

"Well, he also said he was mad." Franz turned away. "If he wasn't before, he certainly was by the time we faced him. The way he talked, I don't think he even realized that they just reanimated her corpse and made her able to repeat some lines – to him, it was always the wife he loved."

"No." Amelia spoke out suddenly, and with a vehemence that surprised Franz. "That… that's not love. Love is a _good_ thing. Love isn't selling out your country for the sake of getting your wife back. Love isn't shutting yourself in a room to the exclusion of everything else and devoting all your attention to a… a _zombie_. I don't know what to call it – obsession, insanity, maybe – but don't call it love." As she fell silent again Franz finally noticed that she was crying silently, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Amelia?" He questioned softly. She shook her head, wiped angrily at the tears, swallowed hard and tried to calm herself down.

"Franz, I… I'm scared." She finally said. "I care about you so much. But… but they all say Sir Orson cared about Monica too. I just don't know how something like love could end up as… as twisted as that was."

Franz was silent for a while. "I don't know either." He finally replied.

"…Franz." Amelia spoke in a low voice. "Promise me something, okay? Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never do something like what Sir Orson did. It doesn't have to be about me – for _anyone_. Promise me you'll never go off the deep end."

"Amelia, what are you talking about?" He smiled reassuringly and spread his hands. "It's me. Do you honestly think I'd ever be capable of doing something like that?'

Amelia looked away from him. "Promise me. Please."

Another silence fell upon the room. And then Franz reached over to grasp her hand, "I promise." He said softly.

She nodded. "I… thanks. Thank you."

* * *

"Franz, you wished to see me?" The General stepped into the room and Franz quickly saluted in response.

It had been a day since Amelia had come to his room. After their short talk, she'd left the room after a while, saying that she wanted to get some training in before the evening meal.

Franz meanwhile, hadn't had much of an appetite, so he'd spent much of the day in his room pondering about the various options he had available to him

"At ease." The Silver Knight motioned with his hand and Franz moved his own down.

"Yes, sir." He paused. "Has there been word about my new mount?"

Seth nodded, one corner of his mouth quirking slightly. "As a matter of fact, yes. Did your brother tell you about it?"

Franz shook his head. "I was just wondering."

"Well, if you're not busy now, then we can go take a look at her, give her time to get acclimated to you."

"Alright."

As they walked down the corridors of the reclaimed castle, Seth gave his protégé a look.

"Yes, sir?'

"Franz, is there any particular reason you decided to bring your pack along?"

"Well…" Franz felt the rough material of his satchel thud against his back for the umpteenth time. "Actually, yes. I'm planning on making an important decision soon, sir. I'd like your input on it."

The Silver Knight nodded. "That's reasonable."

"You heard about the Ghost Ship incident, correct?"

"Yes, Forde filled me in on the details during one of the pub trawls he insists on dragging me along." Seth chuckled slightly. "The way he told it you and Amelia were made out to be heroes of the hour."

"No, not really," Franz hesitated. "Well, sort of. Apparently we defeated the strongest monster of the group. So Prince Ephraim decided to…" swinging the satchel over, he grasped a hold of the shining metal emblem. "Reward us… with this." He held the plate – approximately the same size as his head – up were the General could take a good look at it.

"I see." Seth's expression became contemplative, a tiny smile of memory making its way to his face. "It's certainly been a long time since the day I received one myself. I remember how proud he looked when I was handed the emblem."

"He? You mean Lord Fado?"

"…No." Seth's smile grew wider. "I meant my mentor. I was once a simple recruit too, you know." He shook his head and handed the Knight's Crest back to Franz. "Still, you've had this for a while now, yes? Why the sudden decision?"

"During the fight with Orson, I was unable to defeat him."

"Hardly surprising." Seth raised an eyebrow. "He was one of our best swordsmen, after all."

"Yes, he _was_. In his prime." Franz clenched his fists. "But by the time we fought, he'd deteriorated to the point where it wouldn't have surprised me that he simply collapsed from exhaustion. And Amelia managed to beat him, didn't she?'

"An admirable demonstration of her rapid progress." Seth said calmly, before a note of amusement entered his voice. "Don't tell me you're doing this to soothe a wounded ego, Franz!"

"Wha – no! That's ridiculous!" He sputtered, before calming himself down. "General, Amelia's, she – we're close. I'm nothing but happy that she's able to improve at such a rate. But," He ran a hand through his hair. "I want to be able to protect her. And I can't do that if I'm weaker than her."

"I see." Seth's voice was quiet. "To be absolutely frank, the Crest is your personal property, so I cannot forbid you from using it if you wish to." He rested one hand on Franz's shoulder. "Nor do I have any desire to. The wish to protect others is a noble one."

The young knight nodded once. "Thank you, General."

"And now, let's see to that new mount."

* * *

"Amelia?"

"Hnh?" Amelia glanced up from the bench where she had been taking a breather after her training session. "Oh, Ewan. What's up?'

The young mage flashed a cheeky grin at her. "Oh, just watching my favourite young recruit practice her footwork."

She chuckled wearily. "Glad I could provide some entertainment." Reaching up to brush a lock of hair from her eyes, she slumped down again. "General Duessel devised this training regimen for me, you know? I'm trying to stick to it as closely as possible – I don't want to let him down."

"Oh, come on. Who's the heroine of our last fight?" Ewan scratched his head, a bemused smile on his face. "You're good enough to be noticed by the Prince-"

"King now." Amelia chuckled. "Didn't you know? They had a official ceremony the other night. Of course they did it quickly and quietly so they could get down to the real business of figuring out where to begin eradicating the fiends."

"Sire, king, whatever." Ewan shrugged. "He still noticed you, and I hear he's going to be handing out a reward. Wonder if it's cash."

"Actually, I made a request." She looked into the distance. "I was told that they should have it ready by today."

"Oh, for what?" Ewan's questioning look was broken off as several horses were led into the courtyard. Their bearing and demeanour made it obvious that these were born and bred to be warhorses. As they came to a halt near the western wall, one of them – his fur a pale brown in colour – stamped its foot irritably.

"Heh, look at the lot of them. Betcha one of them's for Franz." It was only then that he noticed Amelia had stood and begun walking towards the assembled mounts. "Amelia?" He questioned as he broke into a short jog to catch up with her. "You mean _this_ is what you asked for?"

As they neared , she saw Franz and General Seth drawing close as well. A few more steps and she was able to make out the words the older knight was speaking to his charge.

"…name is Sophia. I understand she's rather gentle in personality – a lot like Neige was, truth be told."

"Thank you, Sir." Franz replied softly before his eye met hers. "Amelia? What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, apparently." She turned to regard the lineup of mounts. "If I'm going to be a mounted soldier, then I'll need a mount of my own, right?"

"Indeed." The Silver Knight walked past her to lay a hand on another horse, it's fur a deep shade of brown – aside from a splash of pure white near its forehead. "This is Fortinbras – a rather fancy name, admittedly, but it serves well enough." He smiled down at the young recruit. "And this will be yours."

Silently, Amelia walked up to Fortinbras, running her hand along its glossy neck, feeling the muscles under the smooth coat. "Hello, Fort." She said softly.

"Sophia." Franz's new mount was a light grey to the point of being mistaken for white at first glance. He grasped her reins for a long moment.

"Hm." Ewan folded his arms. "I wonder if I should get a mount too."

"Sure." Amelia commented wryly. "If you could find one that wouldn't throw you off and trample all over you after ten minutes."

"So, how much do you know about taking care of horses?" Franz said as they turned to lead their new mounts to their stables.

"Not a whole lot." Amelia admitted.

"Want some pointers?'

"I'd be much obliged." Amelia ran a hand along her mount's neck again. "It's going to be a while until I can feel confident in taking care of her. I mean, I heard about some of the basic stuff like rubbing them down and cleaning them and it's really intimidating as it is."

"Don't worry – it's really not as difficult as it looks – and most of the stablehands will be helping you out, so-"

He was cut off by a sudden blast of the trumpet – recognizable as the new King's signal for an immediate assembly. Franz shook his head and reached for Fort's reins.

"I'll get the horses to the stables. You fall in first."

"Right." Pausing to take one last look at her new steed, she turned and headed for the rapidly converging group of soldiers.

* * *

"…Grad forces." Amelia kicked at a pebble on the ground. "Showing up in bulk near the Narube River. A Frelian detachment there sent out an urgent appeal for aid"

"I guess we've got our next target, after all." Franz sighed and turned away. "Everyone should be ready to march before the hour is up, right? I'll go get my things."

"Will I need to bring Fort?" Amelia looked over in the direction of the stables. "I'm still not sure about my ability to fight from horseback."

"If you need to you can always dismount. I mean, the reason they're trained is to stand still in the middle of a battlefield when it's all noisy and bloody without running away." Franz smiled. "You -, no. _We'll_ do fine. Don't worry."

Amelia grinned slightly. "Watch your back if you watch mine?"

He chuckled. "Deal."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	41. Chaos

No Longer Alone

* * *

Hey guys.

A slightly faster update time than normal. Maybe I could turn this into a habit.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Hrmph. Barely got to bed down again and get used to the old hovel when we get sent off halfway across the country." Forde gave a sardonic smile as he lowered himself onto a stool near the campfire. "No rest for the weary, it seems."

Kyle merely shook his head. "You've no right to complain. Think about the Frelian soldiers who were ended up ambushed by the Grads. I'm sure you wouldn't wish to take their place." Over the course of the past two weeks travel there had been a series of Pegasus messengers sent by the beleaguered troops, carrying increasingly desperate messages begging for reinforcements. Grado had apparently attacked in force, leaving open once more the question of where they kept getting their fresh troops from.

Franz sighed and glanced up the night sky. The pleas for aid had certainly spurred the army towards moving faster – especially those who hailed from Frelia. But the plain reality of it was that still wouldn't be reaching the Narube River for at least another fortnight.

Biting into the bread chunk he'd been holding in his hand, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about the besieged soldiers and what they were doing at right that moment.

"Seems we've been rushing around to solve problems lately." Forde sighed as he settled himself next to his younger brother. "I mean, first we had to run off to Jehenna to deal with the Grad army attacking Her Highness, then we rushed back home to stop Sir Orson from ruining the land any more than he already had, and no we're headed for Rausten."

"We were going to have to go there sooner or later, anyway." Kyle replied as he tossed a stick onto the fire. "Lord Ephraim wants to gather Rausten's Sacred Stone in addition of Renais' own. Their power is our best chance at countering the influence of the fiends."

"We have the Renais stone with us?" Franz looked up.

"Hm? Oh, right. You weren't there." Forde stifled a yawn and turned to regard his brother. "Yeah, the 'coronation' ceremony was basically putting a crown on Ephraim's head for about a minute before they opened the passageway behind the throne room with the bracelets they always wear. Who knew they could do that? Well, aside from King Fado, of course."

"The bracelets? Huh." Franz nodded absentmindedly. He briefly recalled asking General Seth about them back in Serafew back when he had been travelling as part of a small task force instead of a huge army, back before he had ever met Amelia.

He shook his head and let out a mirthless chuckle. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Closing his eyes, he once more let his mind wander to the final outcome of this conflict – whatever it might be.

* * *

"Whoa!" Amelia tugged on the reins of Fort, and her mount reacted quickly, slowing down from its gallop to a subdued trot. Another tug and he came to a complete halt.

"Good boy." She ran a hand along its neck, noting silently that its ears twitched as she did so. "I guess that's enough for today. C'mon, let's get back to the camp, huh?"

"Nice work, Amelia." Neimi's voice came up behind her as she turned her mount around. "I'd say you've started to get the hang of it."

"I sure don't _feel_ like it." Amelia admitted ruefully. "My legs ache all over like you wouldn't believe." She patted Fort's neck once more. "At least he's pretty stoic, huh? Wouldn't know what to do with a spitfire if you'd turned out to be one."

"Well, it's pretty admirable that you've kept up with horseback training throughout our march." Neimi nodded as she fell into place beside Fort, her head barely reaching up to Amelia's knee. "Can't have been too easy."

"Well, I can't be too prepared, right?" Amelia shrugged. "The ability to fight from horseback is a big advantage, but only if I can do it well."

"We should be reaching the Narube river tomorrow morning…" Neimi looked away hesitantly.

As the two of them continued to head back to the encampment, Amelia's gaze travelled over to several bushes near the dusty path. The summer was waning, with the autumn creeping up slowly, but apparently a few of the bushes were still in bloom, with…

"Hey!" She pulled Fort to a stop. "Michew berries!"

"Huh?" Neimi glanced around where. "Where?"

"Over there. See? Those bushes!"

"Hey, you're right!" Neimi had already started for the bushes, laden with the brightly-coloured fruit. "Wow, there're loads of them!"

Amelia quickly dismounted, and after checking to make sure Fort wasn't going to run off, she joined Neimi, who was already enthusiastically picking the berries from the bush.

"It's perfect." Her archer friend grinned.

"Huh? What is?"

"Remember how you asked me about making michew pies before? Well, we never found any berries before, so I couldn't show you. But now we've got more than enough!" Neimi smiled enthusiastically. "When we get back to the camp, we can make some."

Amelia chuckled and stooped down to help Neimi pick them. "That's nice, but maybe we could save them for after the fight tomorrow. You know, as a sort of celebration."

"Hm. But what if, you know, there's not much to celebrate?" The archer tucked away the fruit she had already collected into her side pouch. "I mean, if things go badly and all." She hesitated, turning her face away. "We've been pretty lucky about avoiding big casualties or… or losing people we care about so far. But it might not last."

_Wow, the mood soured quickly._ Amelia plucked another berry, opting to pop this one into her mouth instead of her satchel. She chewed at it thoughtfully as she formulated her response. "Well, it might not, of course." She finally said. "One of us might die. The Demon King might wake up tomorrow. I might wake up tomorrow and this would have all been a dream and I'm still back in Silva. The Pegasi might revolt and attempt to eat all the world's carrots." She shrugged. "But it's all gone okay before, and there's no reason it shouldn't now. This fight shouldn't even be a particularly big one."

Neimi was silent as she grabbed a few more of the berries. "I guess." She finally replied as she grasped the sack tightly. "Tomorrow, then?'

The lancer nodded and smiled enouragingly. "Tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning, the army came upon a scene of chaos.

The Grad army had struck hard and fast. Most of the Frelian task force had been defeated and made prisoner or simply slain outright. The few survivors of the task force huddled along with the civilian refugees of the area on a tiny island in the middle of the wide river, holding onto the bridge entrances with a grim determination.

Franz scarcely had time to take stock of the situation before the air around him seemed to thicken, filling the entire area with a choking, oppressive sensation. A quick glance to the side informed him that Amelia and Neimi were similarly affected, with the former grimacing and taking deep breaths through her mouth.

_What-?_ Quickly glancing around, he caught sight of a single figure standing in front of the lords at the forefront of the army. After a moment, he blinked in surprise as he recognized it as Prince Lyon of Grado.

_Prince Lyon? He's leading the forces here?_ It didn't add up. Admittedly he had never met the Prince in person before, but everyone who _had_ all concurred that he was a pacifist in nature. Certainly he wouldn't actively be commanding the troops…

It was apparent that the lords – Ephraim and Eirika in particular – found his entrance an unwelcome surprise as well, and they were currently engaged in an argument with the lord, not that Franz could actually hear the substance of their discussion from his vantage point.

"Is he stalling?" Amelia pondered out loud from beside him. "There can't be any other reason he appeared out here with no bodyguard or anything, right?"

"It might be a body double." Lute observed from several paces back. "Maybe-"

**I SEE. THEN I HAVE NO FURTHER REASON TO CONTINUE THIS FOOLISH CHARADE, DO I?**

Franz recoiled at that voice, tightening his grip on his sword and glancing around quickly. It hadn't appeared to come from any particular direction, but if he had to guess.

**YOU ARE CORRECT. LYON IS NO MORE. I DEVOURED HIS FRAIL HEART AGES AGO. IT WAS A POOR MEAL, BUT ENOUGH FOR MY PURPOSES.**

Right. From Prince Lyon. Or, well, whatever was possessing Prince Lyon. Franz shook his head and tightened his grip on his sword. Whatever they were facing was obviously not something to be trifled with.

**YOU ASK MY NAME? HAH. WHAT A POORLY EDUCATED LORD.**

It Was obviously still carrying on the conversation with King Eprhaim, although Franz couldn't guess if the being's mental voice naturally seemed to resound from everywhere and nowhere, or if he was purposefully projecting it in such a way to intimidate the army.

**TELL ME, WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE BEING THAT WAS SEALED WITHIN THE STONE OF GRADO? THE NAME USED BY HOUSEWIVES TO FRIGHTEN SQUEALING BRATS INTO SILENCE? ****THE NAME OF TERROR ITSELF, SPOKEN ONLY IN HUSHED WHISPERS BY THE LOREMASTERS OF THE REALM?**

"What?" Beside him, Amelia's eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. "He's not… he can't be…" Franz himself was trying desperately to quell the roiling wave of panic within him. If this was what it looked like, then they would be going up against-

**CORRECT – I AM FORMORTIIS, THE DEMON KING OF OLD. I HAVE BEEN REBORN.**

The effect, as far Franz could see, was immediate – all the Lords within striking distance of the Demon King shifted into a fighting stance, weapons gleaming into the light of the setting sun. Distantly, Franz noted that a fiery radiance seemed to pour from Ephraim and Eirika's weapons – they were obviously imbued with some powerful magic.

**HA. SO YOU WILL STAND AND FIGHT. I WOULD EXPECT NO LESS. COME. ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU A POWER BEYOND MORTAL KEN. A POWER THAT ONCE HELD THIS WORLD IN ITS GRASP. I AM THE DEMON KING. BEHOLD MY MIGHT.**

Franz saw Ephraim lunging forward with his lance, saw Prince Lyon – the Demon King – vanish in a flash of arcane light, as if he were never there, saw Eirika stagger backwards in shock or pain.

And ahead of them, the Grado army continued their relentless assault on the beleaguered survivors.

* * *

_Rushing in onto that island would only get us cut off and stuck in the same predicament that the Frelian forces are in._ Amelia glanced around, noting to grim situation they were in. _But we need to reinforce the soldiers there, otherwise the troops pouring in from the north will overwhelm them._

It had been decided that the army would split into two main groups, one to accomplish the task of supporting the bedraggled remnants of the Frelian soldiers, the other to sweep up alongside the banks and to drive the inevitable Grad reinforcements away – the group she (along with Franz and Neimi) had been assigned to.

Up ahead, she caught a flash of maroon armour, and nodded to herself. General Duessel was the leader of their battle group, and as usual he had charged headlong into the fray, his war-axe carving a swathe through the enemy soldiers that came up against him. Most of them didn't appear to have any compulsion about facing down their former general – nor, for that matter, did they appear to care that he was obviously far more skilled than they and was comfortably holding his own against five-to-one odds – they continued to march forwards regardless.

Beside her, Franz lashed out with his sword, unseating another of his opponents and leaving him to tumble into the muddy grasses. A brief lull in the fighting allowed her to come up beside him, and she noted that his armour was badly scarred and dented. He nodded a quick greeting.

"Guess we know where their best troops went." He muttered. It was true, Amelia decided – these soldiers appeared tougher than the ones they'd faced before, although Amelia couldn't understand why they'd have brought the best soldiers out here instead of the climatic battle at Jehenna.

Then again, if Prince Lyon really was the Demon King…

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of thoughts. She was just a simple village girl. The Demon King and the fiends were supposed to be fairy tales told by wandering bards to entertain and used by mothers to scare little children into behaving. Now that they were real, that they had appeared before her own eyes…

_Leave it to the lords and generals to decide the best course of action._ She thought. _I'm a soldier. I go where I'm told and do what I'm told. It'll be enough to see us through._ A frown creased her features as she stared out at an old fortress once used as an outpost. Thick black clouds were gathering over the place in quantities and speeds that simply were not natural. What was going on over-?

"Whoa!" A blur of motion alerted her to an enemy lunging at her and she swung her lance up instinctively, parrying the strike. With a quick flash of anger at her own carelessness, she wheeled Fort around, trying to strike at the footbound soldier.

Her opponent was dressed in gleaming red armour, like so many of the Grad soldiers she had faced, only this one was splashed with sticky, dried blood. He was missing his helmet, and as Amelia struck down at him, he weaved to the side, letting her get a good look at his eyes – and she nearly dropped her weapon in shock.

_What on earth – _They were white, glassy orbs, with no visible pupils at all. The enemy soldier lurched away, bringing his axe to bear as he tried to strike at her again. His face was twisted into a vicious snarl, as if rage were contorting his very muscles.

Suppressing a cry of revulsion, she barely avoided the wild slash from her opponent, and struck quickly before he could recover his stance. Her lance tore through the arour protecting his chest, and after a shuddering jerk the soldier collapsed.

_What's going on?_ Quickly, her gaze swept the battlefield. The Grad forces weren't behaving like mindless berserkers, but there was still something distinctly inhuman about the way they acted. They continued advancing heedless of their losses or their opponents, striking out at whoever approached them.

Amelia swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. She didn't know exactly what was happening, but it wasn't much of a logical deduction that the Demon King's had had a hand in this. As if to punctuate her point, a blast of light magic fired from a nearby monk bathed one of the Grad soldiers in a holy radiance, and with a cry of inhuman agony the soldier collapsed, wisps of what appeared to be oily black smoke rising from the body,

Briefly, Amelia wondered if the purged soldier had survived the purging, and even more briefly considered going to checkl but two horseback knights rode up to meet her, lance and sword at the ready, and she was forced once more into battle.

In combat Fort seemed to share a mind with her, rearing back, jerking forward, allowing her to dodge and room to strike with minimal prompting. Even as she fought a distant part of her mind wondered if it had been like thatfor Franz and Neige.

"Nkh!" Suddenly there was a tear in her right sleeve, warm blood running down the bare skin of her arm. She struck back quickly, but her opponent was able to weave back as well, avoiding the hasty retaliatory blow.

Abruptly a fireball careened into the side of the soldier's face, sending him tumbling of his steed and into the muddy banks of the river. She just had time to catch sight of Ewan giving her a two finger wave before he returned to facing off against a trio of enemy mages, with Tethys and the lilac-haired swordswoman at his side.

Her other opponent rode up to her, slashing downwards. Amelia blocked the blow wither lance – wincing as she felt the force of the strike travel up her arms – and twisted slamming the blunt end of her weapon into his helmet. He fell to the ground, stunned, and Amelia turned away, trying to find where Franz or Neimi was.

* * *

His blade clattered uselessly against the metal buckler of his opponent, and Franz quickly shifted his sword to block the counterattack. Seizing an opening, he slashed at the Grad's chest, and dark blood spurted out over the area.

With a grimace, Franz turned away. Whatever curse was empowering and driving these soldiers also ensured that they would neither offer nor accept mercy. Disabling them or, if it came down to it, killing them was often the only way to ensure they would not continue fighting.

"Come on, Sophia." He urged his mount forward. "We've still got work to do." General Seth had been right in saying that her disposition had been much like Neige – but there were still enough differences in temperament and behaviour that he didn't feel entirely natural fighting atop her.

Silently, he wondered how Amelia was holding up with Fortinbras.

More Grad soldiers were pouring out from nearby forts, waving axes, swords and lance and screaming war cries. He could hear the screeching of wyverns in the distance, but apparently the Pegasus riders of Frelia were doing a good enough job of occupying them and preventing them from diving down on the allied forces. Franz shook his head in consternation. _Did Prince Ly – the Demon King bring the entire remaining Grad army to the river? No wonder the Frelians were getting decimated!_ Well, there was nothing to do but to meet the new challenge.

Just as Franz was about to form up with the line to meet the next wave of soldiers, he felt a terrific impact in his side, and he hit the ground hard. Rolling to decrease some of the force, he glanced up to see a swarthy, muscle bound soldier raising an axe over his head. _How'd I miss him sneaking up on me?_ The thought flashed through the young knight's head as he struggled to get to his feet, knowing that he wouldn't be in time, that the axefighter was already leaning forward, muscles bulging as he began to swing the axe in the short arc that-

The tip of a lance burst through the soldier's chest, and the warrior jerked wildly once before slumping, its weight tearing the weapon out of Amelia's hand. She glanced at it for a moment, and then leaned over to offer a hand to Franz.

"You looked like you could use a save."

He nodded and accepted the outstretched palm, pulling himself to his feet.. "Well, you did cut it a little close." He replied as he did quick runthrough of his body's condition. A quick tensing of his muscles didn't reveal any sharp pains shooting through him, so he ought to be all right for a while yet. "Still, I guess I should say – DOWN!"

Before he consciously registered the motion he had already darted forward, his free hand pushing a surprised Amelia to the side and to the ground, his sword coming up to deflect the lance strike from the armoured knight. Shifting the angle of his strike, he drove the blade into the unprotected area between the soldier's helmet and breastplate, causing another spurt of arterial blood.

He stepped away from his latest kill, taking a deep calming breath. After a moment, he noticed Amelia staring at the knight's corpse, as if she were still trying to piece together what had just happened in her mind. Then, with a shake of her head and a grunt, she pulled herself upright.

"Guess that makes us even, huh?" A shaky smile was offered.

A shaky smile was returned. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does."

Any further conversation was cut short by the sound not unlike a thunderclap, and their gaze was drawn to the sky where the gathering clouds were now abruptly dispersing.

"The Demon King…" Amelia said softly. "They – did they beat him?"

"I don't know." Franz admitted. "But whatever they did, he doesn't have any power here anymore." He gestured towards the Grad reinforcements which had moments before been charging their lines.

Most of the Grad soldiers were standing still, looking about with confused expressions on their faces, while some simply slumped over like puppets that had their strings cut. The sounds of fighting had died off with remarkable speed.

The battle was over.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	42. The Sword and The Shield

No Longer Alone

* * *

Well, not much to say today. Ordered my first game online ever over the course of the past two weeks. Yay?

Anyway, let's get down to it. I hope you enjoy what I've written.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"So, how are things?" Forde questioned as she settled down beside Franz to watch the dying sunset

"About as well as could be expected, I guess." Franz nodded slightly. "We got through this fight without many casualties, we already have scouts trying to find where Prince L – where the Demon King ran off to, and many of the Grad soldiers have said they want to help stop the Demon King. All in all, a pretty successful battle, as far as those things go."

"Yeah, that's nice, but I was asking about you and Amelia."

Franz hung his head. "Forde, why do you keep needling me about her? For your information, we are perfectly fine as well, and that's all I'm going to say about it."

"I'm not 'needling' you. And I don't think it's all fine either."

"What?" Franz gave his brother an annoyed look. "What are you talking about now?"

"You're worried about something. Troubled." Forde raised an eyebrow. "What, you think I couldn't tell? I'm your brother, you know."

Franz sputtered for a moment and turned away. "Even if I am, you don't know that it's about Amelia."

"Well, I caught you looking down her direction when she went off to keep and clean her things. Then you gave this huge sigh and walked off. Looks to me like she's pretty involved in this."

The younger knight didn't reply.

"C'mon, if it's anything serious at all, you should get it off your chest."

He hung his head. "She saved me again today."

Forde paused for a long moment, before venturing, "And… you would have preferred she _not_ save you? Because dying is a pretty poor alternative, you know."

"No, of course not. It's… I shouldn't have let myself get into a position where she had to save me in the first place." His hand clenched. "I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting _her_." He mumbled to himself.

Forde scratched the back of his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that last bit? Didn't quite catch that."

Franz let out a heavy sigh. "I said, I'm supposed to be the one protecting her."

"When did you draw a conclusion like that, anyway?" Forde questioned after a moment's hesitation as he bit into a biscuit he'd drawn from one of his pockets.

"Lord Ephraim charged me with it, remember? Back when she first joined our side. I promised I'd watch over her."

"True. But there's nothing in that saying she doesn't have a right to look out for you in turn."

Franz remained silent.

"Franz."

"Hm?"

"Do you _want_ to protect her?"

"Of course I do!" Franz glanced up, a frown on his face.

"You don't find looking out for her a meaningless, thankless chore?"

"No!"

"You'd have done it even if Ephraim hadn't told you to, right?'

"Of course."

Forde nodded, eyes half-closed. "One last question. Back in Jehenna, when you saved Amelia and brought her back, how'd it feel?'

"What?"

"Did it feel good? Like you were on top of the world? Like you had succeeded in the single most important task you'd ever come across in your life?"

"Well, I – yes." Franz looked down at the ground.

"Then why would you want to deny Amelia the same feeling?"

Franz blinked and simply stared at his brother, unable to form a coherent response.

"Franz, you have to learn and accept a few things. First, Amelia's a _soldier_, just like you are. Second, her rate of improvement is staggering –just like you. She's gone from a greenhorn to someone I'd consider a decent sparring partner in the space of maybe half a year. Third, she, as a fellow soldier, is just as obligated to watch your back as you are to watch hers. Fourth, she _wants_ to protect you as much as you want to protect her." Forde slowed down slightly, thinking. "You saved her a few times during our journey, didn't you? What did you think was going through her mind after you did that?"

"Huh?"

"Do you think she was swooning over you? That she was so _grateful_ to have a knight in shining armour come in to rescue her from danger that she just wanted to fall into your arms?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Franz snapped.

"Yeah, that's exactly what it is. Ridiculous." Finishing off the last crumbs of the biscuit, Forde brushed a strand of sandy-blonde hair from his eyes. "You want to know what she was really thinking?" Without pausing for an answer he continued, "She was thinking, 'I can't keep on like this. I've got to grow stronger. I can't keep being a burden to Franz.'"

"A burden? That's ridiculous!" Franz could feel his face heating up. "She's not a burden to me-"

"So why do you act like her saving _you_ makes you a burden to her?"

Once again, Franz found himself unable to form a good reply.

"At this point I feel pretty safe in saying that you love Amelia. But first, you have to be careful – do you love some idealized version of her that doesn't change and always remains the perfect damsel for you to protect, or do you love her for who she is – the changing, growing, passionate _person_ that is Amelia?" Forde stood up with a sigh and patted his brother on his shoulder. "Just something for you to think about." He concluded before heading back to his tent.

As he left, Franz continued to sit there, staring at the growing darkness and trying to sort out the thoughts whirling in his mind.

* * *

"Ugh – Ah!" Amelia hit the ground, her and as she lay there, she felt the world around her sway. Pausing a moment to recollect herself, she pulled herself to a sitting position and offered a sheepish smile at her mentor.

"I guess I'm still not fast enough, sir."

Duessel nodded as he shifted his lance into a neutral position. "Given your smaller frame and relative lack of armour, you're plenty fast. Your problem is that you're only reacting to the enemy's attacks."

She frowned as she stood up. "I'm not sure I follow, General."

"Amelia, you need to be able to know where the enemy is going to strike before they do it. Otherwise you'll always be moving _after_ they move, and that's no good. If they're faster than you – or even just exactly the same speed, then you won't be able to defend yourself in time. Like just now, for instance." His shrugged. "Although I admit it's not the fairest of contests in any regard. Putting aside the years I have on you, I'm empowered by a Knight's Crest. You're not."

The lancer shook her head. "I still don't… I'm not sure I understand, sir. About moving before your opponent does. How do you manage that?"

"Well, part of it is paying attention to the stance they're in. Like this, for instance," he said, shifting his weight. "This makes it pretty obvious that I'm going for a low strike. Of course, most people won't telegraph their attacks as clearly as I'm doing right now, but the principle still applies. Another part of it is discerning whether their attacks so far seem to have a strategy or pattern behind them. Yet another is trying to _force_ your opponent into aiming for regions you already have covered." He shrugged, a surprisingly open gesture for one of the most powerful men in the army. "And part of it is simply instinct that you hone over the battles."

"I see." She gazed down. "I'm not really sure I want to be in enough battles to develop that instinct."

"None of us do, lass. None of us do. But that's the reality of the situation, and so we have to be prepared for it." Duessel nodded once. "Well, that's enough for this session," he noted as he shifted his gaze to the setting sun. "And probably for the day, while we're at it. Make sure you get enough sleep and water."

"I will, sir. Thank you." She smile gratefully, nodded, and turned away, noticing the slight frown that shadowed the aged general's face as she did so. She knew that her face tugged at a vague wisp of memory in the corner of his mind that he couldn't quite unearth, but she still remained clueless as to what it was all about.

Well, it could always wait until later, and so she shelved the thought away as she caught sight of Neimi running up to her.

"Amelia! There you are!" Her friend came up smiling. "I was looking all over for you."

She grinned back. "The michew berries, right? Sorry I couldn't come earlier –"

"Yeah, I had to start without you or we'd never get them ready in time for supper. Never mind, come on."

Several minutes later, Amelia sat back, a grin on her face. "Well, that should just about do it. Now all we need to do is wait for it to finish cooking."

"Uh-huh." Neimi chuckled as she packed away the leftover ingredients. "So, dare I ask what you're going to do with your share of the food?"

"Hm? Well, if the pie's as big as we think it is, we'll each have three slices. So I'll eat one myself, of course. Then, well…"

"One for Franz?" Neimi shrugged as she saw Amelia's expression. "What? It wasn't a hard guess to make, you know."

Amelia chuckled and shook her head. "Yeah, one for Franz. Not sure about the last one, though…"

"You could always share it. One bite for you, one bite for him. It'll be all romantic and lovey."

"Nah. I don't think it'd work with pies. Hey, maybe you want it? You could share with Colm…"

"Thanks, but I've already got three slices of my own, don't I? If you want, you could always cut it into two big pieces instead of three smaller ones."

"There's a thought, I guess."

Later, after the pie had finished baking, Amelia began to carefully cut out the pie slices.

"Look at you," Neimi said with an amused air. "Do you always try to be so neat when dividing of food?"

Amelia grinned sheepishly. "I guess it was knocked into me since young – you always have to be as fair as possible when dividing up food, especially when there's not as much to go around. Anyway," she handed several of the pieces of Neimi. "These are yours. Where's the oil paper? We need to wrap them up first until we can give them to the others."

"I got 'em, don't worry."

They were just about to start when a familiar voice floated up. "Hey, I'd know that smell anywhere! Michew pies!" Ewan came up to them, a tiny grin on his face. "Why didn't anyone tell me you were making some?" As he spoke, he reached his hand towards one of the larger slices, obviously intending to seize it for his own.

"No!" Amelia blurted out, and Ewan raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. She supposed such a vehement reaction was slightly out of the ordinary for her, but regardless… "That's – that one's supposed to be for Franz."

The confused expression on Ewan's face was replaced by an easygoing smirk. "For Franz, huh?" He glanced down at the other pieces that Neimi was continuing to wrap. "Figures it'd be the largest slice."

"What? Don't be stupid!" Amelia countered hotly. "These two pieces are exactly the same size!"

"_Really._ Could have fooled me." Ewan tilted to his head. "No, this one's definitely a bit bigger."

"No it isn't! Neimi, they're the same, right?"

Neimi glanced up and shrugged. "They look about the same to me."

"Told you."

The young mage shrugged. "Fine, have it your way. Even if it _is_ bigger, that's good, right? Shows you how much you care for Franz."

Amelia could feel a sudden hotness rising up her neck and to her cheeks. "Why does everyone keep talking about the two of us like that?"

"Well, it _is_ pretty obvious. And it's not like you're actively trying to hide it or anything…" Neimi shrugged. "Can't expect caring friends to not comment on it, can you? Anyway, here you go. Two large slices of freshly baked michew pie." She winked as Amelia. "Best go find Franz before they get cold."

As Amelia accepted the bundle and walked away, she could hear Ewan and Neimi carrying on a discussion, with just one too many giggles punctuated their talking for her to view the subject matter without suspicion.

* * *

"General." Franz saluted and the Silver Knight returned the gesture.

"So you wanted my advice, but you didn't tell me what for." Seth quirked a slight smile. 'Well, that would make it a fair bit harder to prepare the answers that you seek in advance."

"Well, that's sort of what I wanted, sir," Franz said softly. "I'd prefer an answer from the gut, as it were."

"Very well. Proceed."

"General," Franz paused, trying to decide the proper words. "Have you ever cared for… a fellow soldier?"

"In terms of?" The General frowned. "I care very much about you and your wellbeing, for instance, but that would not be the same kind of care I extend to Lord Ephraim – or Princess Eirika for that matter."

He hung his head. "In the… romantic sense." He finally muttered.

There was a silence for a moment, and when General Seth spoke again, Franz got the distinct impression the general was trying to suppress a smile. "Is this about Dame Amelia?"

"Yes. Well, in a way. I just wonder if I'm doing the right thing by her."

"You mean your talk with me about wanting to protect her?" General Seth gestured to one of the wooden benches in the vicinity. "Do you want to sit? I have a feeling this talk might take a while."

"Yes, well…" Franz settled himself down. "Back when I first wanted to become a knight, it was always with the idea of _protecting_ someone. The villagers, children… the people who couldn't fend for themselves. By taking up the sword, I would be able to fight for their sakes."

Seth remained silent.

"And for a long time, that was the image that came to mind whenever I thought about 'protecting'. A knight in shining armour standing in between the rampaging hordes and the helpless innocents."

"And that image changed." He said this as a statement of fact, not a question.

Franz nodded in reply. "Yeah. Back when Amelia first joined me, it was… it wasn't much different. She wasn't a good fighter. She kept getting herself into danger. But I was happy taking care of her and looking after her. I thought that was what I was supposed to do, after all," he raised one hand, staring at his palm. "But then… well, she got stronger. She started protecting me, too. And I guess I'm just a little confused. Just now Forde asked me why I was so willing to protect her and yet so unwilling to let a fellow soldier protect me. Maybe I just haven't grown out of the mentality yet. Maybe I'm still seeing the frightened girl who couldn't hold her lance right instead of a solder who can face down wyvern knights in combat." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I told you before that protecting someone is a noble goal, did I not?"

"Yeah, you drummed it into my head ever since I became your student." Franz smiled slightly at the memories.

"As it was drummed into _my_ head by my mentor." Something about the tone in the General's words caused Franz to look up, but the general was now looking away, a smile of memory on his face. "And as it is a noble goal, I do not see any reason for Amelia to be deprived of it."

"That's what my head tells me too. But I guess it hasn't quite worked its way down to my heart yet."

The general paused. "Well, then, have you talked to Amelia about this?"

'Huh? N – no, not really." Franz glanced away. "I was always worried about what she'd say if she knew. I don't think she'd take it well."

"No? Dame Amelia strikes me as a rather reasonable person. And the plain fact of the matter is that your problem revolves around her – or more accurately the relationship between the two of you. It may be uncomfortable to tackle such an issue head on, Franz, but I promise it'll be for the better in the long run."

"I guess." Franz nodded gratefully. "Thanks for your advice, General."

"Indeed." The Silver Knight stood and turned away. "Giving advice is usually far easier than following through on it." The younger knight gave his leader a questioning look, but Seth waved it off before heading towards the centre of the camp.

Franz sat there himself for several more seconds before pulling himself to his feet. He should probably be heading back to his tent, he decided. First he would pick up something important, and then it would be time to find Amelia.

* * *

"There you are!" Amelia exclaimed as she saw Franz emerge from his tent. "I was looking for you."

"Oh?' Franz smiled at her. "About what?"

"Here!" She beamed at him as she raised her hand to show the package she was grasping. "Neimi and I made a pie with michew berries, and I wanted to share it with you."

"Oh, wow," he smiled. "Thanks, Amelia."

"Come on, let's go find a quiet spot."

A couple of minutes later, they were sitting together on a slight incline, just as the first of the stars began appear in the sky. Amelia couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as she watched take the first bite of his piece. What if she had botched the recipe somewhere? She should have tasted it first –

"Wow!" He glanced up at her, his expression one of delighted surprise. "This is fantastic!"

"It is? Really?" Taking a bite out of her own piece, Amelia found that she had to agree.

"I had no idea you could cook so well." He said as he continued

"Oh, well, Neimi really did most of the work." Amelia shrugged. "She's a lot more experienced at this than I am."

After this, they continued eating for a few more minutes, this time in silence. As Franz finished his share, he sat back slightly, eyes distant.

"Amelia."

"Mm?" She wasn't really paying attention, her focus diverted to trying to pick out a few of the constellations in the night sky.

"We've been a lot of fights so far, haven't we?"

"You can say that again." Amelia said as she massaged the cut she'd received earlier during the battle. Already healed, of course, but it still ached. "And now we know the Demon King's behind all this, too."

"Yeah… thanks for saving me today."

"Hm? Oh, it was nothing." She smiled at him. "You'd have done the same for me. You _did_ do the same for me."

Franz looked to the ground. "Amelia… since you joined this army, I've always wanted to protect you. To make sure you were safe."

"Well, given that I'm still here, I'd say you've done a good job." She chuckled lightly, until she noticed the expression on his face. Franz was serious about this, maybe even upset. "I can't count the numbers you've bailed me out at the last moment," she continued.

"Yes, but at the same time," he paused, as if trying to decide the correct words. "I wasn't willing to let you do the same for me."

"…What?" She frowned and tilted her head to one side. "I'm not quite sure I understand."

"You've saved me a few times too, haven't you? The battle against Orson, and again today…Those come to mind."

"Well, yeah…"

"And whenever it happened, I always felt… well, a bit upset. I didn't want to be protected. I wanted to be doing the protecting."

Amelia shook her head. "Franz, I told you before, remember? Back in the Grado Capital. I _want_ to protect you, too. You're important to me."

"I know," he closed his eyes. "I want to protect you, you want to protect me… that's how it's supposed to work, isn't it? By watching over each other, we'd grow together as well. We'd be able to accomplish things neither of us could on their own."

"Uh-huh." She smiled encouragingly. "We promised each other, didn't we?"

He nodded once. "Right, and tonight… well, I want to hold us to that promise."

She raised an eyebrow. "Franz? What are you…" He had turned around to start rummaging in his pack. A moment, he had drawn out-

"Isn't that the Knight's Crest you got from Prince Ephraim?"

"Yes. I've been thinking about using it recently." There was a pause, and then he turned to regard her. "Using it with you, I mean."

"Huh?"

"Using this emblem will give us power. The power to fight. The power to protect. That's what we both want."

She was silent, staring down at the gleaming metal crest. "Franz, you mean – you're willing to share this? With _me_?'

He smiled. "We made a promise didn't we? Rivals, friends and partners. We'll go together."

Another silence, pregnant with expectation. And then she nodded once. "All right, but hang on."

Reaching for the pouch by her side, she quickly drew out her Speedwing and Energy Ring, placing them delicately on top of the plate. To Franz's questioning gaze she merely smiled somewhat sheepishly. "Couldn't have you being the only one to use your treasures, right? And every little bit helps."

He nodded. "I guess." And then, upon a silent agreement, both of them grasped the objects tightly, accepting the power contained within into their bodies.

Amelia suppressed a gasp at the sudden flow of energy and power that surged through her. It was… well, all of a sudden she felt like she could have taken on the Demon King and all the legions of darkness by herself. Opening her eyes, she met the astonished gaze of Franz, obviously similarly affected.

"That was…." Words apparently failed him, because he merely shook his head after that, as if unable to believe that he could suddenly wield so much power.

Silence fell upon the both of them again, until Franz reached out to grasp Amelia's hand with his own.

"I'll be your sword." He spoke softly, reaffirming the vow.

She nodded, accepting it, and reciprocating in turn.

"And I'll be your shield."

After that, neither of them moved from that spot a very long while. They merely sat there, leaning against the soft earth, staring up at the stars in the sky.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	43. Family

No Longer Alone

* * *

Sorry about taking so long to give you guys a relatively short chapter. I guess you could say life got in the way.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"You should go on a journey."

Amelia glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "Where did that come from? And I was under the impression that I was on one right now."

Ewan sighed, scratched at his head. "You know what I mean. A _fun_ journey. You just go to soak in the sights, learn more about the people, visit places, that sort of thing."

"You sound like you've had that sort of experience already."

"Uh huh. Master Saleh brought me out for one of his trips before – collecting herbs, toughening your body, learning the lore and cultures of the various nations. It was one of the best experiences I ever had in my life. Sis said that I wouldn't shut up for _weeks_ after I came back."

A smirk crossed her features. "And that's different from the way you normally are… how?"

"Hmph. Cheap shot."

With the scouts still searching for the whereabouts of Prince Lyon, the army had yet to break camp even after spending another day by the riverside. King Ephraim was becoming increasingly distraught; after all, every moment they were unable to pick up the trail meant that it grew colder. There had been some preliminary discussion about heading onward to Rausten first to pick up the last Sacred Stone, but that didn't appear to be becoming reality anytime soon.

At least it was apparent that they'd be moving _soon_, even if nobody knew where, and so most of them had already packed their kit, ready to set out as soon as the call to march sounded. Meanwhile, though, there wasn't much of anything for the soldiers to do but sit around and talk with each other.

"Anyway," Ewan continued, "Like I was saying, you should go on a journey."

She shook her head. "I don't… I'm not really a 'journeying' person, Ewan."

"Sure you are!" The mage flashed a grin at her. "You're curious, you're resourceful, you're pretty tough, and you like to try new things. You'd love it!"

"'Love' it, huh…" Amelia pursed her lips.

"Definitely." Ewan gazed off into the horizon, his eyes distant as he sifted through the memories of the time he'd spent travelling with his master. "There're so many beautiful things out there, there's – I don't have the words to describe them. Lush forests, still wet with morning dew that reflect the sun into a million sparkling lights," Ewan closed his eyes, a smile of contentment on his face. "Flowers fields, spreading out as far as the eye can see, filling the land with a blaze of glorious colours. Market towns, the controlled chaos of hundreds of people shopping, eating, relaxing, living their lives. The cold stark grandeur of the mountain peaks…" His voice trailed off into a brief silence. "There're so many wonderful things out there in the world, Amelia. When you see them, when you get to experience them for your own… you'll feel glad just to be alive."

Amelia stared at the redhead, eyebrow raised. Was this the same Ewan with the infectious grin who pranced through life without the slightest bit of gravity or care? He looked like a completely different person.

"That's… pretty eloquent for you, Ewan." She finally ventured. "I've never heard you speak like that before."

"Heh." The mage rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, and suddenly he was the Ewan she knew so well again. "Guess I am pretty passionate about it all."

"I guess I can understand that. Hearing you speak like that kinda makes me want to go off on a journey myself."

"Well, why don't you? Nothing's stopping you, after all."

"Nothing's stopping me, huh." Amelia repeated softly. "I don't know. I always thought that after the war, I'd want to settle down again. Take it easy."

"Always thought?" Ewan questioned as he kicked at a pebble by his foot. "You make it sound like you've changed your mind a bit."

"Not really. I just never really had any thoughts about doing anything else." Amelia sighed softly. "I'm not sure what I want anymore, really. Everything's so… unclear."

"Well, it's not like you have to make a decision now. Sleep on it. Talk to Franz or Neimi or whoever it is you might want to hook up with after the fighting ends. I mean, whatever it is you do, you're not going to do it alone."

"And I guess that if I were to say I'd go on that journey, I'd have you tagging along?"

"Well, you'd always have a use for someone as street-smart and savvy as me, after all." Ewan grinned.

She replied with a chuckle and leaned back, using her arms to prop herself up as she gazed at the sky. After several more quiet moments she spoke up again.

"You know, Ewan?'

"Huh?"

"I like talking with you. You always have so much drive and energy, it always makes me feel more energized myself. You're always cheerful and upbeat." She paused. "I guess what I'm saying is… I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad you're my friend."

"Heh. Well," Ewan said. "You might want to make sure Franz doesn't hear you say that. He might get the wrong idea, you know?"

She let out a short laugh. "Franz isn't the jealous type, Ewan, And besides, it's not like I don't like talking to him too. It's just that both of you – the way you are – it's different."

"Different how?"

"Well… I already told you that I think you're energetic and carefree," Amelia cocked her head to one side. "Franz is different. More serious. He's… well, he's like a knight in shining armour. When I'm with him… I feel safe. Comfortable. Like I can confide in him and…" Amelia shrugged. "And he'll be there for me no matter what." She concluded

Ewan nodded. "Sounds nice. Still, I wonder…"

"Wonder what?'

The mage shrugged and glanced away. "How he feels when he's with you. I mean, I don't think he'd get the same vibe that you do from him, after all."

Amelia clucked her tongue once. "No, I guess not. I'm pretty sure he's happy being with me, though." She shook her head and chuckled softly. "Sounds kinda narcissistic when I say it out loud, doesn't it?"

"Not if it's true." Ewan shifted in his seat and patted her hand. "I mean, anyone can see it. It's not like you two ever really tried to hide your relationship or anything."

"Yeah, I guess." She hung her head, a wistful smile on her face.

"Hey, Amelia?"

"Hm?"

"As long as we're on the subject, where _is_ Franz?"

"I'm not sure. He told me that General Seth wanted to talk to him about something."

"Huh. Wonder what that's about."

* * *

The two blades flashed silver in the sunlight as master and student faced each other.

Breathing heavily, Franz shifted his weight, trying to give himself a more stable footing as General Seth moved onto the offensive yet again.

Quickly, he swung his sword up to meet the general's attack – and in the process ending up falling for his feint. Frantically Franz weaved to the side, evading the blow at the last possible moment.

Once again they were facing each other. Franz thought he saw his mentor giving a slight nod of approval – but then again that might have simply been him shifting his stance. Drawing in another breath, Franz took the initiative this time, lunging at Seth with a series of three swift sword strikes.

They were quickly deflected by the General, of course, but Franz knew that Seth would be trying to unbalance him, and so he was able to brace himself properly to counter the blow.

His newfound strength helped, too.

With a battle cry, he shoved forward hard, sending General Seth staggering backwards for a brief moment. Almost instantly, he had collected himself again and stood once more in a battle – ready stance. Stepping back, Franz imitated the gesture, but after a brief moment Seth shook his head with a small smile and lowered his sword. Letting out a breath of released tension, Franz followed suit.

"Good job, Franz. You've improved tremendously." The Silver Knight's smile was warm. "To think that my protégé could hold his own against me for a minute and a half! Time does indeed fly."

"It wasn't me, General," he said. "I just used the Knight's Crest I was given, remember? It's the power boost, that's all."

"So you say. And yet you've also told me that you split the strength of the Crest with Dame Amelia, which means less individual power than normal was bestowed onto you. Not to mention I've used one myself quite a while back, so if anything you're just placing yourself on even ground with me."

Franz didn't respond.

"Franz, let me speak candidly for a moment," Seth sighed and settled himself down on a log that passed for a bench. "You need to learn to get past your belief that nothing you do is of any real worth. It is unbecoming for a knight to hold himself in such low regard."

"I thought you told me that knights were supposed to be humble, and not proud?"

Seth nodded. "I did. But 'humility' is not a refusal to accept praise or thinking low about yourself. It means to have an accurate estimate of your skills and abilities." He shook his head. "And frankly, seeing you beset by self-doubt is rather jarring."

"Jarring?" Franz raised an eyebrow. "You mean in comparison to Forde?"

"…No," he said after a pause. "Franz, when I was your age, there was one knight I looked up to above all others. His prowess in combat was unsurpassed, and his devotion to Renais was absolute. Us squires learnt the meaning of chivalry by watching him serve the king."

He frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but what –"

"Ten years ago," Seth continued smoothly on as if Franz had not said a thing. "We received word that a famed assassin was hiding within Renais' borders. The knight tracked him down and brought him to justice, but at great cost. He was mortally wounded in the process, and died shortly after."

"General, why are you telling me –" Franz broke off mid-sentence as part of what his mentor just said registered in his mind. "Ten years ago?" Suddenly he felt very much like he had to sit down. "But that's – that can't be…"

"It is." Seth's voice was solemn. "He was the greatest knight in the history of Renais. Your father."

Franz closed his eyes and sat silently for a long while. Finally, he shook his head and spoke up. "General… Why this? Why now?" There was a snort that might have been the beginning of a chuckle. "I grew up hearing tales of what a great knight my father was. But I don't remember him well at all."

Seth remained silent.

"He was always away on some mission or other. Whenever I felt lonely, Forde would always talk to me about our father's exploits. About how he was serving the nation, and how we had to be proud of him. Hearing stories about what a great knight he was was what made me want to join the knights myself."

"You probably have no idea how much you resemble him." Seth spoke up. "Your stance in battle, your love for Renais, your love of life… He was my mentor," his smile widened. "And it is truly an honour to see the skills he imparted in me developing in you in turn." There was a significant pause. "Franz, I want to tell you something, and I say this upon my word of honour as a knight and as a person."

"Yes?"

"You will grow to become a knight that surpasses not only me, but Sir Forde, Sir Kyle, and your father as well, if only you continue down this path that you are on. This, I give to you as an unshakable promise."

* * *

"Hey, Franz." Amelia greeted him with a tiny wave as she saw him walking towards their little group. He smiled back in return, although Amelia could sense that he was thinking deeply about something. "Is something the matter?"

"No… not really. I was just given a lot to think about all of a sudden."

"Yeah," she smiled. "I know what you mean."

"Hey," Ewan spoke up. "You were with the General, right? One of them, anyway. Do they know where we're supposed to be going yet?"

"Sorry, no. There's no trace of Lyon. Although from what I heard, if they can't find him by the next morning we're striking out for Rausten. Everyone agrees we can't afford to waste any more time."

"Hm." The mage rubbed the back of his head. "Guess that makes sense. At least we'll get to do _something_. All the tension's driving me crazy."

"I'm guessing your parents had a wonderful time raising a hyperactive kid like you." Franz said offhandedly as he settled himself down on a nearby seat.

"Nah. Don't have 'em." Ewan shrugged. The casual manner in which he revealed this information caused both of the soldiers to look up. Amelia knew Ewan was close to his sister, but he'd never mentioned his parents before. "They died before I could get around to remembering them."

"Then it was Tethys who took care of you?" They'd had little chance to interact ever since their first meeting, but she knew that Ewan would usually go to meet his sister during the evenings – sometimes to talk, and sometimes just to sit in contemplative silence at each other's side.

"Uh huh," Ewan grinned with pride for his sister. "She learned dancing and fortune telling in order to get enough money to take care of me. When I was still a kid she'd always save the biggest portions on the plate for me, she'd give me the newest pieces of whatever it was we found that we could use, and she never once complained. I wouldn't be where I was today without her."

"I guess it's the same with me and Forde." Franz said. "Well, my dad…" he trailed off for a moment before he shook his head and continued. "We had enough money that we never really had to worry about where out next meal was going to come from – especially after Forde was accepted as a knight. But he still had to raise me by himself."

"Me too. After my mother got taken, I… I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. I remember being brought to the centre of the village, with the headman asking everyone there who was willing to take on the burden of another girl – another mouth to feed." Amelia closed her eyes, and a smile of memory played across her face. "Then the blacksmith stepped forward. I still remember what he said – the way he said it. 'She's not a burden. She will never be a burden.' And then he took me to his house and from that day on he raised me as his own daughter."

"Listen to us," Ewan broke the ensuing silence with a short laugh. "All of us losing parents like its going out of style or something…" His voice trailed away. "You know, it's been a while since I really thought about what Sis had to put up with to raise me."

Franz was silent as he gazed at the ground.

On some silent consensus the three of them stood and turned to leave. As he began to walk off, she caught Franz's eye and he gave her a brief smile before walking off.

Alone for now, Amelia headed for the edge of the camp where she simply stood, silently, enjoying the breeze.

* * *

Franz saw Forde crouching down near the campfire, apparently tightening some of the straps on his armour. Just as his older brother finished the job and stood with an air of evident satisfaction, Franz reached over to embrace him.

He could feel his brother stiffen in shock, but given that he hadn't twisted out of the younger knight's grip and punched him in the neck he supposed that all things considered it was a rather positive reaction.

Finally, he broke the hug and stepped away. His brother cocked his head to one side. "And what do I owe that rather spontaneous display of affection to?"

"Nothing really. Just… thanks." Franz shrugged awkwardly. "Thanks for being my brother."

A snort. "You're welcome." He hesitated for a moment. "Is there anything else?"

Franz had to stifle another laugh. His brother could read him like an open book. "Forde… what was our father like?"

Forde looked away. "Looks like Seth finally talked to you about it, huh." Turning, he began to walk towards the fire, as Franz trotted behind him.

Finally, after settling himself down, Forde gazed up at the sky and began to speak.

(X)

"So let me get this straight." Amelia mumbled as she tried to rub sleep stuff out of her eyes while simultaneously buckling her armour. "We decide to head for Rausten via the fastest route, and then the scouts come back and report that they saw the Demon King going down that path anyway?"

"That's the long and short of it." Neimi shrugged.

It was the next day – technically. It was still pitch black outside, and there were several people holding up torches, letting the groggy soldiers see what they were doing and getting the army moving in the chaotic mess that somehow always turned out organized and efficient in the end.

"_Someone_ up there's got a strange sense of humour, then." Amelia concluded as she started for the infantry regiments. She took two steps before remembering that she was now a member of the mounted forces and did and abrupt about-face.

"See you later, Amelia!" Neimi called as she ran off, quickly being lost to the gloom – although Amelia thought she caught sight of Colm following behind her.

"Amelia!" Franz appeared out of the darkness, grasping the reins of both their horses, who followed him obediently. "Here, I got Fort ready for you."

"Thanks," she gave him a grateful look as she clambered atop her steed, a distant part of her mind registering that it felt a lot less uncomfortable than the first time she'd tried it. Beside her, Franz quickly mounted Sophia as well.

"So…" She ventured. "We're heading through Mount Nerelas, right?"

"Uh huh." The expression on Franz's face soured. "From what I hear, it's just shy of actually being considered an active volcano."

"A volcano?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You've never heard of –" Franz was cut off by the shrill blast of a horn, signifying that the army was about to move out. He turned back to her. "We'll continue this later, okay?"

"Yeah," Amelia tugged on Fort's reins, feeling him respond in turn. "Later."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	44. Inferno

No Longer Alone

* * *

Okay, next chapter's up. At least the delay wasn't for a month this time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The air was suffocating.

Blasts of gas and steam emitted from natural vents all over the craggy surface of the mountain they were now traversing, covering the area in thick clouds of noxious fumes that stung their eyes and made breathing difficult.

The terrain was uneven and rocky, loose pebbles and jagged holes littering the entirety of the winding path into the depths. Progress was constantly slowed as carts, wagons and horses got themselves stuck in the loose ash and people slipped and stumbled on the treacherous roads.

To make matters worse, the same gases which hurt their lungs also severely reduced visibility – it was somewhat like trying to see underwater, Amelia thought – if the water was lime-green and smelt vaguely of badly burnt cooking.

"If this is what a volcano is like, I don't see much worth coming here for." She muttered sourly.

"I can't say I'm a fan either." Franz said in reply. "But apparently the farmers like it. The ash from the place is supposed to help the plants grow. That's why this region is so fertile."

"What? This place is a hellhole! How could it possibly help plants to grow?"

Franz shrugged. "You'd have to ask someone who's studied this sort of thing. All I know it that it really does work that way."

Conversation soon petered put again as both of them – along with the rest of the army – focused their efforts on keeping up with Ephraim . The king had charged forward like a man possessed, and by now had outpaced all but the hardiest of the soldiers in the army. Glancing up, Amelia caught sight of Tana swooping forward – the shifting air currents made flight extremely risky - but apparently the princess of Frelia had found something important enough to risk taking to the skies for.

As they rounded the next corner, Amelia noted first that the next sretch of land was noticeably wider – and for that matter it appeared far easier to traverse, at least at first glance. The area was largely free of obstacles – aside from a few large, smooth boulders that lined the edges of the place, almost on the edge of the crevices from which the hot air spewed.

King Ephraim was there too, apparently having slowed down at long last. His head was bowed, his brow furrowed as he was obviously pondering something. Next to him stood the princess of Rausten, a sombre expression on her face.

"Did something happen here?" She said softly, almost to herself.

Franz didn't respond – Amelia half doubted he'd heard her in the first place, but when she glanced over at him she noticed that he was staring at the ground around them with a puzzled frown.

"Franz? What's…" She trailed off as her gaze was drawn to the floor too. As she observed it more closely, she began to see that there were a multitude of strange curves and waves across the floor. She was at a loss to identify the cause of those marks – if pressed, she might have hazarded that someone was writhing on the floor, but-

A sharp intake of breath from several other soldiers only heightened her growing unease, but the root cause of it remained annoyingly out of reach. Nevertheless, she brought her lance into a battle-ready position – if it turned out to be a precipitate action on her part, then it'd only leave her looking embarrassed. Better than if she'd remained complacent and turned out to be wrong about _that_.

A sharp crackling noise sounded – indistinct over the murmur of dozens of knights in the vicinity, but still clear enough to be heard. Instantly Amelia's head turned, her eyes seeking the source of the sound.

One of the boulders at the edge of the chamber was rocking slightly, shifting back and forth. The soldiers closest to it had noticed and begun backing away, looks of alarm clearly etched on their faces.

Hairline cracks snaked their way across the 'boulder', although by now there could be no doubt as to its true nature. Just as she heard the faint ringing sound of Franz drawing his sword from beside her, the egg finally cracked open, its occupant tumbling to the blackened earth in a mass of writhing scales.

* * *

Franz had never paid much attention to lectures and discussions on the individual breeds of Fiends that served under the Demon King – he'd figured that for all their supposed unholy means of origins, they fought like almost anything else – either physically or with magic. In retrospect this had led to several of the Fiends surprising him – chiefly the Gwyllgis with their insane speeds, but by and large he'd been able to get by.

Even then there was no way of mistaking the serpentine creature that now pulled itself upright for anything other than what it truly was.

A Gorgon. One of the Demon King's deadliest minions. And ominous cracking sounds from the rest of the eggs dotting the landscape were any indication, it was going to be joined by more of its brood very shortly after. In a complete defiance of nature's normal processes, the newly-hatched Gorgon appeared to already be fully grown as well as quite clearly hostile.

"Form up!" He heard Lord Ephraim's shouted commands. "Mobile units, target the eggs that haven't hatched yet. Don't let more of those things get loose!"

He shared a brief glance with Amelia, and then they were galloping towards the nearest of the egg clusters, his blade sweeping out to strike at the thick shell. For all their imposing bulks the shell was surprisingly fragile, and it crumbled under his assault.

Following up behind him, Amelia thrust her weapon deep into the insides of the egg, cutting deep into the embryo. After a slight pause she yanked her lance – now slick with a translucent yellow fluid – out, guiding Fort a few steps further away. They both tensed, but there were no stirrings nor screech of anger – whatever was inside was now dead.

Unfortunately, their efforts were far outstripped by the sheer number of eggs in the vicinity that were still hatching, spilling more and more of the serpentine monstrosities onto the battlefield. And to add insult to injury, all too familiar howls and screeches heralded the arrival of other types of fiends – Gargoyles, Baels, and Mogalls chief amongst the reinforcements. Looking at the circumstances, the conclusion was pretty easy to draw.

"It's a trap." He muttered to Amelia, who nodded grimly.

"No way all those Gorgon eggs just all began to hatch when we came here." She agreed. As she drove Fort forward, stabbing deep into another intact egg – one of the last remaining ones in the area. "So," she continued as she backed away again, keeping a wary eye out for the circling Gargoyles. "What now? Do we try to break through? Or form a defensive line or something?"

"Not our call." Franz reminded her. "We just need to do whatever the commanders tell us – until then I guess killing as many of these things as possible would seem a safe assumption on our course of action."

"Heh. 'Safe'." Amelia said softly as the both of them wheeled around to meet the charge of a Bael. The humongous spider screeched as it neared them, it's slavering fangs poised to bite down upon the small humans.

Jerking Sophia into action – his subconscious mind noting once more that her response was just a fraction of a second slower than Neige's – he managed to evade the charging tackle. Amelia had broken to the other side at the same time and was now riding perilously close to the edge of a fissure in the blackened earth.

As the overgrown spider attempted to manoeuvre itself to strike at either of the two knights again, Franz slashed at the creature with his blade. Back in Taizel the monster's been incredibly tough and resistant to all but the mightiest of strikes, and so he gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the jarring sensation he knew would follow. But the blade bit deep into the side of the Fiend, drawing both blood and a scream of rage from the giant beast.

And then he was past the Bael, but as he guided Sophia around for a second pass, a volley of fireballs from the mages slammed into the Bael, blasting it apart before it had a chance to attack again.

Franz shook his head and turned back to the battle. He supposed the sudden ease he was enjoying when facing down the forces of darkness owed a fair bit to the Knight's Crest. Well, good for him. Pushing the matter from his mind, he turned to meet the next wave of monstrosities – noting unhappily as he did so that the Gorgons were tearing through their front lines like ire through dry grass.

And out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amelia atop Fort, charging straight at the closest – and easily the largest – of the Gorgons.

* * *

Amelia was willing to admit that her rash act to challenge the snake-monster head-on might not have been the best of ideas, but the creature _had_ noticed her first, and had only been temporarily waylaid by a soldier leaping at it with an axe. A single sweep of one of its long whiplike arms (ending in what looked uncomfortably like perfect replicas of snake heads) sent the soldier flying and crashing to the ground in the tumbled heap of limbs and armour. Not having many other options, the lancer had used the distraction to close the distance and to hopefully get the first strike in.

She was also unhappily aware of the fact that she had no estimation whatsoever of what the creature was capable of. It appeared to be rather well-versed in melee combat, but she was also pretty certain that she'd seen it throwing about some sort of dark magic a moment earlier.

As she moved within striking range, she thrust forward with her lance, only for the snake-monster to bat it aside irritably. The strength behind the blow was unbelievable – Amelia was barely able to prevent her weapon from being knocked out of her grasp. And she was reasonably certain the only reason she'd been able achieve that was due to her newfound strength.

Just then, the snake-monster's other hand began to pulse, a deep purple glow forming in the centre of its grasp. Acting on instinct, she jerked Fort to the side – and the world around her vanished in roaring darkness, an unearthly howl whipping through the air. For a moment Amelia was absolutely certain she'd been hit, but after a moment she realized that everything still seemed to be in good working order. Twisting around in her seat, she saw the ground behind her had had a huge swathe gouged out from it, a testament to the destructive power of whatever it was the serpent had unleashed.

It was then that she noticed a thin cut near the 'elbow' of the monster's hand, from which black blood dribbled down its scales, and Franz behind the monster, swinging his mount around. Another part of her mind noted that his blade had the same dark blood on it that now flowed from the creature's wound. The glancing blow had apparently been enough to knock the creature's aim off.

Making a note to thank him later, she wheeled around, ready to confront the beast again, but apparently the snake had taken offense at Franz's challenge and it was now focusing its beady eyes on the knight. It struck out with its claws again, and Franz was barely able to fend off its blows with his sword. Abruptly one darting strike got through and Franz lurched back, twin gashes on his shoulder, his right spaulder completely ruined.

The snake creature let out a screech of triumph, just as Amelia plunged her weapon into the creature's back in the approximate location where she hoped its heart was (she was subsequently to discover that the monsters had at least three of them each). More of the thick blood spurted out, some of it spilling onto her arm with an unpleasant burning sensation and the serpent reared back with a scream of pain and rage. It whirled, the 'fangs' on its hands slashing at Amelia, but her grip on the lance saved her as she was pulled along with it, meaning that she still at the back of the beast and a lot closer to where Franz was. On the downside, she had been yanked unceremoniously from her seat on Sophia, causing jolts of pain to shoot through her legs. Aiming a careful kick at the creature's scaled back, she managed to gather enough momentum to yank her weapon from the beast's back, tumbling unceremoniously to the earth.

Pulling herself into a sitting position, she glared up at the snake. Although wounded, it was still obviously capable of doing much more damage. As if to emphasize the point, it reared back again, sizing up its opponents more carefully this time.

Franz rode up beside her, holding his sword in his good arm. The monster shifted stances, diving the one on horseback to be the greater threat, and hissed out a challenge. Both of them charged at each other, and Amelia got a brief impression of confused shouting and the clash of steel against scale, and then suddenly Franz was on the ground again, his expression a mix between anger and exasperation. However, several more blade marks across the serpent's chest indicated that the monster hadn't gotten things entirely its way.

More enraged than ever, the serpent leered forward with a primal scream, and Amelia noticed a strange gleam in its eye that could mean nothing good. Throwing herself forward, she tackled Franz out of the way… almost. She could feel a wave of dark energy enveloping her left, but she shook it off, noting that it didn't feel particularly painful. In fact, her arm wasn't feeling much of anything at all…

She let out a gasp of horror as she turned to look at her arm. Everything below her shoulder was stone. Trying not to scream, she tried to force her hand to move, to form itself into a fist, to make her fingers twitch and bend. Something. Anything.

Nothing.

"Amelia!"

Franz's cry was enough to snap her back to reality of the situation, and she started, staring wildly at the beast. For the first time, it appeared to be showing signs of fatigue, it slumping over instead of continuing its rage fueled assault.

_Now or never_. Forcing down the horror at what the beast had inflicted on her, she raised her lance, trying her best to get into an attacking stance with only one good arm. Beside her, Franz moved up as well, his own weapon reflecting the fiery redness of the cavern around them.

As one they struck blows deep into the chest of the serpent and the creature screamed again – this time, in mortal agony. Jerking away from them, it collapsed to the ground, waving its arms feebly as it bled out the last of its life.

It was only then that Amelia realized that she had been holding in her breath, and she let it out with a long sigh. A moment later, she felt Franz hand on her shoulder. The one which could still feel.

"C'mon," he said, urgency in his voice. "We've got to find you a healer quickly." As he spoke, he stooped to retrieve Amelia's dropped lance.

She shook her head and reached for the weapon. "I can… I can carry it. You… your arm's wounded."

"And _your_ arm is stone." He replied. There was a pause as neither of them spoke. "Come on." He finally said. And Amelia followed.

* * *

Franz smiled as he settled himself by Amelia's bed. "How's your arm?" He asked softly.

"Good." She raised the limb in question, flexing her fingers. "It's still a little stiff, but Father Moulder says it should wear off by tomorrow." She shifted her gaze. "And yours?"

"Already healed. Pretty standard wound, really." Franz shrugged. "Natasha didn't have any trouble with it."

They had managed to win the latest battle, although with heavy casualties. The upshot of it was that the army was simply not prepared to continue moving until the next day at the least, and they were grounded in the middle of the mountain. Franz had heard rumours that Lord Ephraim had charged off alone into the mountains in the belief that he'd spotted the Demon King, and had shortly returned looking like he'd seen a ghost, but Franz honestly didn't have a clue what that was all about. What could have been more shocking than finding out that the Demon King had taken over the body of the crown prince of Grado?

The tent had been filtered, a large cloth hung over the entrance and soaked in water, blocking out the worst of the noxious fumes – the upshot being that it was terribly stuffy in the cramped interior. All in all, Franz decided, it was marginally preferable to going back outside.

Besides, keeping Amelia company was about as pleasant a way to pass the time as any. The medics had ordered strict bed rest for all those inflicted with the Gorgon's petrifying spells until it could be ascertained that there were no untoward side effects, so there wasn't a lot that she could do aside from waiting.

After a while, Amelia shifted under her covers, turning her head to look at Franz. "Hey, Franz."

"Yeah?"

"Back then, back when we fighting the Gorgon… thing," she paused. A smile quirked one side of her mouth. "We work pretty well together, didn't we?"

He chuckled slightly and nodded. "Yes," he said. "Yes, we do."

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Apologies for the short chapter, but at least it came up pretty fast.

I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.


	45. Discovery

No Longer Alone

* * *

Man, it didn't seem that long ago when I had too many stories to keep track of at once. Now all of a sudden I've only this one. Well, aside from miscellaneous oneshots, but notices tickling the ol' noggin right now, so I guess I get to update at a marginally faster pace.

Also, happy Chinese New Year for the year two thousand and ten! Well, kinda belated well-wishing, but still…

As always, I own nothing.

* * *

"Ugh! Finally!" Amelia muttered as she took one last glance behind her. The imposing figure of Mt. Nerelas still loomed behind her, but they were far enough that the worst of the gas clouds and the stifling heat were little more than unpleasant memories.

Of course, the wind being in their faces helped too.

"Well, that's it." Neimi glanced up. "We're now in the Theocracy of Rausten. Ruled by Pontifex Mansel as an representative of the Everlasting. L'Arachel is his niece, and he's raised her as his daughter ever since her parents died while travelling the land fighting bandits and general evil."

Amelia raised an eyebrow. "You seem unusually knowledgeable about this place."

Her friend attempted to hold a 'scholarly' expression for about half a second before cracking and chuckling lightly. "Well, it's all about knowing the right person to ask about these things. And in this case Artur turned out to be the right person." She indicated the monk who had been walking ahead of their group for a while.

Amelia nodded thoughtfully. "Well, does Artur know how long it'll take us to reach the Palace?" Soldier barracks weren't exactly high luxury but after repeated campings out in the field, having a roof over their heads would be comfort enough.

"Nope." Neimi gave an easy smile. "But given what others have said, we've got about two more days of solid travelling through the shortest route."

As Amelia heard this, she fought the urge to sigh out loud. Looking around her she saw most of the other soldiers with expressions of grim resolution on their faces, and she resolved that she wasn't going to appear any less stoical about the whole thing than they were.

On that note, she let her gaze sweep the army once more, her eyes seeking out Franz. She found the knight was currently talking softly with Sir Gilliam, pausing only to take a drink from his canteen.

"…We're not expecting an attack from Grado, right?" Amelia said as she turned back.

"I don't think so. I mean," she glanced over her shoulder. "In between all the fighting we've been doing and the bunch that decided to join us after the Narube River, I can't help but think that the Grad army can't have a whole lot of fight left in it. I mean, the last ambush – back in the mountain – it was all Fiends, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but I think that was the point – we weren't doing so good in the middle of all those gases and the heat – the Fiends appeared to be doing fine. Sending in more humans who have been pointless." Amelia shook her head in frustration. "I mean, at the end of the day, we don't even know how many soldiers the army started with – we can't judge how many are left if we don't know how many there _were_."

Neimi raised an eyebrow. "Well… I bet the Grad general would know?"

"General Duessel?"

"Yeah! I mean, I've seen you talking to him before, so maybe you could ask him when we make camp for today, right?" Neimi raised and lifted one shoulder. "It certainly couldn't hurt."

Amelia pursed her lips and returned her gaze to the front of the column. "Yeah, I suppose." She said softly.

* * *

Amelia later found the General in the Grad section of the camp, conversing with several of the leaders that had joined them. As she approached, she briefly reflected that she didn't know any of them well enough to address them beyond the appropriate title, but she could talk to the General in slightly more casual terms.

Being viewed as his student helped, she supposed.

She wasn't able to hear more than brief snatches of conversation from where she was standing, but, well, it wasn't really in her to pry, and so she remained waiting for them to finish their discussion.

The Obsidian nodded a farewell to one of the men and turned away, a look of deep exhaustion set on his face – an expression that fell away as he looked up to see Amelia standing a few feet away from him.

"Amelia? What is it?"

"Well, sir, general –" she coughed nervously. "It's not really very important, but I was wondering… well, I was wondering if you'd be able to tell me how much of the Grad army is still out there."

The General folded his arms. "Well, I can't say for certain, given that a lot of the soldiers would have been spent against Carcino and Frelia's defences as well – at least the assault groups have agreed to stand down by now. Still, my best estimate would put the core Grad force at…" He frowned. "A surprisingly low number, actually. I estimate no more than five thousand."

"Five thousand," Amelia repeated, feeling a faint spark of hope inside her. "That's good, right?"

"I suppose. But numbers can be deceiving. We have reason to believe that the majority of this five thousand remnants are formed from our elite regiments – the 16th, the 27th, the 3rd Royal Knights, and of course, the Emperor's personal Guard. I know those men – I mean, I trained a fair number of them. They won't go down without a hard fight. Also," the general continued, his expression growing even sterner. "Grado isn't our main concern anymore."

"You mean the Demon King? I mean, I get that he's a huge threat, but…" Amelia raised and lowered a shoulder. "He's shown up for a while already and the sky hasn't turned black and started raining blood or anything like that. He seemed scarier in the legends."

"Well, yes, that would be because…" Duessel trailed off, looked at Amelia, and sighed. "No. It's better if you don't know."

"Huh?"

Duessel shook his head. "Just trust me on this, Amelia. The Demon King is our main threat. Once we've collected the last Sacred Stone from Rausten, we're heading off to Darkling Woods. We've reason to believe the Demon King is there and we need to stop him immediately. _That_, I can assure you, will not be easy. Scouts have reported monsters congregating in the forest from as far as the Malkaen coast."

She nodded in response. "I understand, sir."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Well, if it's not out of turn… what were you discussing just now?"

Duessel was silent for a moment. "We were discussing how a fair number of the Frelian and Renaitian troops are currently refusing to do battle alongside the Grad troops."

"Oh." There didn't appear to be much more to say than that.

"It was to be expected, lass. People aren't very good at letting go of hatred. And we _did_ invade them. But, in practical terms, it's a massive inconvenience. We can't afford infighting or distrust in the middle of a battle."

"They… they accepted us – I mean, you pretty easily, though." Amelia said softly. Silently, she thought about how close she'd come to indicating that she considered herself on the same level as the revered general.

"Well, the circumstances that led to my joining involved me and my men being turned upon by other elements of the Grad army – it's a bit easier to earn trust that way. I'd wager the same would go for lady Natasha – plus, as a lady of the cloth, she focuses mostly on healing and caring. And as for you," he said with a sidelong look and what Amelia could swear were the barest traces of a smile. "You did have someone vouching rather vehemently on your behalf – or at least that's what I've been led to believe based on what Ephraim has told me."

Amelia managed an embarrassed smile.

"Well, if that's all, then I guess you should be on your way." Duessel turned away. "Don't forget our training session later on, though."

"Of course not, sir." She saluted once, smartly, and then turned away, her mind whirling with chaotic thoughts.

* * *

"In nine days' time, the Demon King plans to initiate a ritual in Darkling Woods that will remerge his soul – currently in Prince Lyon's body – with his body, which is entombed in the Black Temple." Seth's expression was grave as he spoke softly to the three knights with him.

"And that would be bad." Forde said, deadpan.

"If the legends are true…" Kyle said softly.

"Whether or not they exaggerate, we do not know," Seth continued in a measured tone. "But we do know that the Demon King is not at his full might yet – and that he _will_ be restored to his former level should that ritual take place."

"Which makes rushing to Darkling Woods our first priority, huh."

"Not quite." Seth pursed his lips. "We're keeping it a secret for now, but the truth is that back in Mt. Nerelas… Lord Ephraim confronted the Demon King again. I'm sure you've heard the rumours filtering through the ranks."

"Then it's true? He faced the Demon King in single combat?" Kyle sputtered. "How could he have been so reckless-"

"His temperament can be discussed another time," Seth continued smoothly. "But the salient point is that during that conflict, the Sacred Stone of Renais was destroyed."

A hush fell across the three of them, and Franz failed to suppress a wince. That left them only one Sacred Stone – one last chance at stopping the demonic hordes. And that also meant that –

"Our next destination remains Rausten's palace. Now, more than ever, we need the light of Rausten's stone."

"So that's two days out," Forde said, his expression serious for once. "From the palace to the heart of the woods, that'll be five days as the crow flies."

"And not counting the innumerable fiends we'll have to cut our way through to get there." Kyle followed up.

"Well, I'm glad you all of have a grasp of the situation." Seth said, with the barest trace of sarcasm.

"General," Franz spoke up. "Something puzzles me. We've established the Demon King has the ability to teleport, and at least can move around far faster than us. What's stopping him from initiating the ritual before the ten days are up?"

"Two reasons. The first is that from what we understand, he needs a full moon for the ritual and the closest one is in ten days. If you want further clarification about the reasons, ask one of mages. The second is that, according to Ephraim, we have several allies that have been standing guard over the Black Temple."

"And they haven't been overrun by monsters yet? I find that hard to believe."

Seth hesitated for a brief second before replying. "The guardians in question are dragons."

"…Oh."

"Anyway, that's pretty much the situation. There's not much we can do except try to speed up our movements, so I trust you'll spend your time well."

As the small gathering of knights dispersed, Franz found himself wandering towards the centre of the camp. With a sigh, he slumped down onto a nearby stool, one hand reaching up to massage his aching forehead.

The situation wasn't looking very good, that much was clear. Even without the ten day time limit, they were looking at an attempt to cut their way straight through a swathe of hellbeasts from the depths of time and fighting the greatest evil that had ever plagued the land.

_Odds are, even if we do win this, we're going to come out of it with untold casualties._ He fought to suppress the sudden image of the people he had fought alongside – the people her cared for – lying on the ground in broken heaps.

_That's _not_ going to happen. I won't let it._

"Franz?" He looked up to see Amelia looking down on him, an inquisitive smile on her face. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much, really," he said as he scooted over to the side to make room for her. "General Seth just told us about what we have planned for the rest of the expedition."

"Really? General Duessel acted like it was supposed to be classified when he talked about it. Wouldn't give me any more details then where we're going in the next few days."

"Well, you know it's going to end up in a showdown with the Demon King, one way or the other."

Amelia shook her head. "Yeah… the Demon King. It's still kinda hard for me to wrap my head around it. I mean, he's in Prince Lyon's body. He looks like a human. But he's supposed to be ancient – older than any of us," Amelia paused. "He's older than any of the _countries_ – it was only after the Demon King was defeated that the heroes of the war starting founding their domains. I mean – it's so much bigger than any of us." She hung her head. "I'm still not sure I really contribute all that much in battles against ordinary humans. How… what are we supposed to do when we're up against something like… well, like _that_?"

He kicked at a tiny pebble on the ground. "I don't really know either. I guess the Sacred Twins from each country is supposed to help. Humans managed to beat him once – I guess we'll just have to believe that we can do it again."

"Mm." Amelia was silent for a while before she let out a snort.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing. It's just – I was wondering…" she stared at the ground. "Let's say we succeed, and we beat him a second time. That would put us on the same level as all the heroes of legend, wouldn't it." She gave a tiny chuckle. "I feel kinda odd… that people might still be talking about what we did so many years down the line."

"Well, all the stories will probably focus on the leaders." Franz shrugged. "Lord Ephraim, General Seth, General Duessel. History doesn't pay much attention to the little soldiers – not unless they do something really special."

"… Hey, Franz?"

"Yeah?"

"If you had a choice, which would you choose?"

"Huh?"

"If you could choose to be remembered by people long after you'd died, or to pass into obscurity like most people… which would you choose?"

"Well, that would depend on what I get remembered for, of course." Franz said with a chuckle. "But if you're talking for something heroic like saving the world… I guess it still wouldn't matter much to me. I don't really like being centre stage." He paused. "If people were going to remember me… I'd rather it just be people I know. My friends, my family. You know."

"Heh. Yeah, I guess I do," Amelia reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can't say I'd dislike the material benefits such acclaim would bring, though."

"I – we always had enough to keep ourselves well off. In between Forde's job in the knights and whatever our father left us… I couldn't say we were ever really lacking."

The lancer shook her head in response. "Silva's a pretty small town at the best of times. My mother had trouble finding work for herself… back when she was still around anyway. My father always tried to provide for me, and there were times when he went hungry for my sake." There was a brief pause. "Still, I've been saving as much of my pay as possible. I should have a decent amount to bring back to him after all this."

"Bring back?" Franz questioned. "So you've decided to go back to Silva after the war?" He tried to keep from the discomfort he felt at that notion from showing on his face.

"No. Maybe. …I don't know," Amelia shrugged. "A part of me wants to keep travelling the world, keep finding new places and experiences. A part of me just wants to settle down after all this madness, go back to the quiet life I once had. A part of me wants to continue being a soldier, trying to see how good I can become. And…" she hesitated briefly. "And whatever happens, I want you to be at my side." The silence was brief until Amelia broke it with a chuckle. "And even if I don't go back to staying in Silva, I'll still to visit once in a while, won't I?"

"Yeah… I suppose you will." Franz said. Or at least, he started to say it, but he was interrupted by the sight of General Duessel striding up to the two of them with a rather urgent look on his face.

"Amelia! _There_ you are!"

* * *

Amelia looked at the general with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Quickly she cycled through a list of possible misdemeanours that would have warranted the general's attention. None from recent memory came to mind and in her confusion it took her several precious seconds to realize that she had yet to salute him.

Hastily she clambered to her feet, already raising her arm, but the general waved it off. There was a strange look on his face, one Amelia couldn't identify easily.

"Yes, sir?" She questioned.

"Amelia, I've remembered!"

"Remembered… what?"

The general sighed once, apparently calming himself down somewhat. "Amelia, you remember that I've always thought I'd seen your face somewhere before? All the way back in the recruitment lines?"

"Uh huh. You mean that's what you remember?" Amelia frowned. "I'm sorry sir, but I still don't know how we could have met anywhere before –"

"Amelia, what's your mother's name?"

"H – huh?" The suddenness of the question was enough to throw her off guard, enough for Franz to step in quickly.

'Sir, I'm sorry," The young knight said hurriedly. "But Amelia's mother has been gone for a long time. I don't –"

"It's all right, Franz." She said softly, a small but grateful smile on her face. _So he remembers mom's face, huh? I wonder why he would have ever come to visit the village._ "My mother was named Melina. She used to live with me in Silva… until bandits raided the village and took her away." Even recounting it now brought a fresh stab of pain. "I'm actually kinda surprised you'd met my mother before – she really didn't go out much-"

"Amelia, your mother is alive and well."

It took her a moment to register what had just been said, and in that span of time she simply stood there, her mouth open, the half-formed word on her lips trailing off into silence.

"What?" She finally managed to squeak out.

"Some years ago – seven, to be exact, my men and I came upon a group of bandits. We were able to defeat them rather easily. And as it turned out, they were bringing a captive woman with them. We rescued her and tended to her wounds, but the trauma of her abduction had been severe – she had lost most of her memory."

For some reason she couldn't adequately explain, Amelia felt her legs starting to tremble violently. She managed to back up the two steps towards the bench she had been sitting on before collapsing onto it.

"We brought her to a nearby village, set up a place for her to stay, and I always came by every once in a while to check on how she was doing. Recently… she had recovered well enough to regain some of her older memories, such as the name of her home village… and the name of her daughter."

Amelia could have _sworn_ she'd felt her heart stop.

"Amelia… that woman is your mother. I'm sure of it."

"My…mother." Amelia repeated softly. She felt so full, so choked with emotion that if she said something too quickly or moved too much she would burst open. "My mother is… she's… alive…" Suddenly she realized she was crying, tears running down her face, her body shaking with her sobs. "She's alive." She repeated, trying to grasp the enormity of the concept before her.

Her mother. _Alive_. Safe. Well. She would be waiting somewhere, waiting for her. After this fighting, she could go find her – it wouldn't take long to locate her. She could go find her mother and they'd see each other again after so long, and Amelia would reach out to hug her and she'd feel her mother's arms around her again, just like before-

Her focus abruptly shifted to General Duessel and Franz, both of whom were standing in front of her, unsure expressions on their faces. Rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hands, she finally managed a teary smile.

"Thank you…" she whispered. "Thank you… for saving her… for keeping her safe. I… I…" And suddenly she was embracing the aged general in broad daylight, holding on as tightly as she could. A distant corner of her mind noted that it was probably a severe breach of protocol – not that she actually cared.

And after a moment, she felt him reach down to pat her shoulders comfortingly.

"Thank you," she continued to whisper softly. "Thank you."

* * *

It was inevitable, Franz reflected, that the news would have spread to all of Amelia's friends who knew the unpleasant details of her past. As most of them gathered aroud her, either for congratulations or questions, he hung back, keeping an ear and an eye on the situation.

He'd caught wind that someone had had a ridiculous idea of starting an impromptu party over the news, but cooler heads had prevailed – aided by Amelia telling them that she preferred the issue kept quiet and personal.

Eventually, as the sun had started to set, the group had dispersed, with the lone exception of Neimi who still sat at her friend's side. Talking to her softly.

As he watched the scene, Amelia managed to catch his eye and indicate that he should come over.

As he neared, he smiled tiredly. "Congratulations, Amelia. I'm so happy for you."

She nodded, her face radiant. "I _know_. I mean, I can still barely believe it's real. I thought for the longest time that she was gone, that she was dead, and now I…."

Neimi leaned over, one hand grasping Amelia's shoulder. "After all this is over, we're going to have to go visit her, you know that? All of us. Me, Franz, Ewan, Ross…."

"I know. There's so much I want to tell her! Everything that's happened, this journey, all the friends I've made…" Amelia trailed off. "I want to see her again."

As the night wore on, Franz sat quietly, listening to Amelia bask in the glow of having suddenly rediscovered her family, allowing himself to feel a bit of that warmth for himself too.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	46. Night

No Longer Alone

* * *

Well, no sense in delaying this update! Here we go.

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but it looks like we'll end up hitting a flat 50 chapters for this story if my outline pans out.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Something wrong?"

Franz looked up into Neimi's face, the denial already on his lips before he sighed and shook his head. "Is it really that obvious?"

She snorted slightly with amusement, but it quickly gave way to an expression of concern. "Whenever you have something on your mind, you tend to shut out the world and brood about it. Most people who know you know that. So… yeah, _pretty_ obvious."

He sighed. "Well, thanks for telling me about that."

"No problem." Neimi paused. "So, what is it?"

Franz looked away. "I... I'd prefer not to discuss it." _At least, not to Amelia's best friend._

He shouldn't be feeling the way he was feeling. He shouldn't be _jealous_ of Amelia. He was supposed to be happy for her. She had found her mother she'd thought dead for the longest time.

He knew there would be no similar miracle for him. He had the seen the dead bodies of his parents. He had visited their gravestones. And try as he might, he could not suppress that tiny flicker of resentment he felt – that Amelia should have her family turn out to be alive and his should not.

Why couldn't he just be happy for her? She'd come from a poor, rural village. She'd lived a life of harshness and solitude. Why couldn't he just be happy that at her unbridled, uncontained joy? Seriously, he didn't think he'd seen her stop smiling ever since the general had broken the news to her two days prior.

"What's wrong with me?" He mumbled thickly to himself as the army continued their march. Out of the corner of eye, she saw Neimi give him another questioning look, but apparently the archer had decided not to pry if he was just going to clam up.

Good. There was a very select list of people he would even potentially discuss this with, and Neimi, as good a friend as she was, was certainly not on it.

Up ahead, the Holy Palace of Rausten slowly came into view.

* * *

"Wow." Amelia breathed as she took in the surroundings. While she would never claim herself the most travelled person around, she at least had the credit of having stood within the castles of three different countries. The fortress of Grado had been designed as imposing and imperialistic, in keeping with the theme of a country that owed its creation to military might. Castle Renais was more open, as was to be expected of a smaller country that had close (well, clos_er_) relations between the nobility and the peasantry.

The palace of Rausten, by contrast, was clearly designed to evoke feelings of grandeur. High, soaring ceilings decked with multitudes of colourful paintings that depicted the history of Magvel and their culture, elaborately carved statues at every corner, with almost everything plated in solid gold – well, if they weren't made out of pure gold already, that is. Light seemingly suffused the entirely palace, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, further highlighting all the beauty stored within the castle.

"Wow." She said again.

"It's really something, huh." Ewan said as he rounded the corner, hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, this place is so… so decorated."

"Hm? Oh, that. Yeah, I guess." Ewan waved his arms vaguely. "But I was referring to the magic."

"Magic?"

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot you haven't been trained to sense that sort of thing. Anyway, this placed is positively vibrating with energy."

"Oh." She knew, based on prior conversations with Neimi, that Rausten's mages were of the highest calibre. No surprise that the Royal Court would be filled with magic, then. "How's it feel?" She ventured somewhat hesitantly.

"Pretty good, actually." Ewan grinned. "All magic is connected, see, so it's a bit like I'm extending my awareness throughout the whole place, even if only slightly. Plus, if I want, I can draw some of the magic from the surroundings to give myself a boost."

She whistled in appreciation. "That sounds handy. Being a mage sure sounds nice."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but we have to spend a lot of time studying and practicing all this stuff – we're not going to be as tough as the actual knights so we have to rely on our magic to help us. I'd say it's a pretty even trade."

Further conversation along those lines was cut short but Forde rounding the corner. "Hey, Amelia!" He flashed her a smile. "How're you getting along? Congratulations, by the way. I heard about your mom."

"Thanks. And I'm getting along fine. I decided to use the free time Lord Ephraim gave us to explore the place."

"Not a half bad idea. Franz might stand to learn a thing or two from you."

"Franz?" Amelia raised an eyebrow. _Come to think of it, I haven't spoken to him much since… since the night I found out about my mother, actually._ An embarrassed smile appeared on her face, an expression that thankfully went unnoticed by the two others present. _Heh. Guess I got caught up in the excitement. I should go talk to –_

"Oh, yeah. He's been acting all mopey the past couple of days. Once we arrived here he's basically crashed himself in our quarters and I'm willing to bet he's not moving until meal time."

"That's… huh." Ewan scratched the back of his head. "Wonder what's gotten him so out of it."

Amelia bit her lip, a frown on her face. After a moment, she opened her mouth. "I'm sorry, but if you'll excuse me, I… uh, I want to go talk to Franz."

Forde nodded, an easy grin on his face. "I thought you might. I suppose just this once, I can leave the duties out drawing him out of his funk to you." He concluded as he gave her a quick wink.

Aided by Ewan's encouraging smile, she turned and headed down the corridor.

* * *

"Franz?" She called out and knocked softly on the door. There was silence within the room for a long moment, to the extent that she thought Franz hadn't heard her, but just as she was raising her hand to knock a second time hen he heard his soft voice.

"Come in."

She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Franz was sitting on a chair near the window, head leaning to one side with an arm propping it up. He was obviously in a deep funk of some kind, and Amelia knew about Franz to realize that if he wasn't even _trying_ to hide it from her, it had to be something out of the ordinary.

"Hey," she said softly as she walked over to him. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer – or at least not directly. Instead, he turned his head away, so that he was looking out the window, towards the main courtyards.

"Franz, what's wrong?" She said, a bit more forcefully this time.

At that, he screwed his eyes shut and looked away. "I'm sorry." He finally whispered.

The lancer frowned, confused. "For what? You haven't done anything to me."

"You've found your mother after so long…"

"Uh – huh…" While that statement was true, she had trouble with seeing any relevancy to the topic at hand.

"I'm supposed to be happy. Happy for you, that you can go back and rebuild your life. Happy that your mother's still alive. And I guess a part of me _is_. But… whenever I look at you, whenever I see you smiling and laughing and so overjoyed… I… I…"

Then suddenly everything fell into place. Franz's reticence every since the news, the longing looks she'd caught him giving her every once in a while. She bit her lip as she recounted the first time that she'd learnt that his parents were gone, all the way back in Grado castle.

She looked down. "Franz… I'm so sorry."

Now it was his turn to sputter in shock. "Sorry? Sorry for what? I'm the one who should be-"

"I was so happy about my mother, so overjoyed that I… I forgot how you had to be feeling. How dejected you had to be over your parents death."

"Don't be ridiculous! Your mother's _alive_, Amelia. You have every right to be overjoyed at that."

"And you have every right to be unhappy that your parents aren't." Amelia replied softly, shutting down the flow of his words. "Franz, even if my mother's alive now, I'd still believed her dead for the past seven years. I know how it feels when you lose everything."

Franz remained silent, and after a moment Amelia continued to speak.

"Franz, don't you think Neimi and Ross and Ewan wish their parents were alive, too? Don't you think then when they heard about my mother, a part of them went 'I wish the same thing would happen for me' too? Do you think I think I think any less of them? Of course not! So why would I think any less of you?" Her words slowed, her voice becoming softer, more melancholy. "Wishing your parents were still alive doesn't mean you think any less of me or anything. It just means that you miss them very much, and would give anything to see them alive again, if just for one more day." Her last words trailed off into an uncomfortable silence that hung between the two of them.

Suddenly, she became aware of a tear splashing down from his cheek, of Franz choking back a sob. And then she was on her knees in front of him, trying to get him to lift his head so she could see him properly.

"Franz?"

"I just…" he shook his head. "I just wish I could see them… just one more time."

"Oh, Franz…." Forsaking words, she drew him into an embrace, her head on his shoulder. After a brief moment, she felt his arms come around her, felt him holding her close.

And they remained there.

* * *

"You know, not that I claim I know anything about what went on between you and Amelia back there, but there's, uh…"

"What is it?" Franz looked up at Ewan.

"There's a dried tear stain down your cheek. It's kinda, uh, noticeable."

"You're mistaken, I'm sure." Franz replied shortly, but nevertheless one hand reached up to rub at the aforementioned area.

"If you say so…" Ewan's smirk could be infuriating at times – and this was one of those times.

Silently, he considered actually telling Ewan what had transpired, but he decided against it – even if he wanted to engage in a heartfelt discussion about the tragedies of their past, a midnight trek through the darkened halls of the Rausten Palace probably wasn't the best situation to be discussing such things.

And as long as they were on the subject of midnight treks…

"Where are we even going? If you're going to drag me out of my bed at an ungodly hour, they least you could do is give me a destination."

"Meh. What's life without a few surprises?" Ewan made an elaborate shrug. "Don't worry, we're almost there." They rounded the corner at arrived at a set of thick, elaborately carved doors, where he noted that Amelia and Ross were already waiting. A moment, later, the mental map he'd made of the castle clicked.

"The Royal Armoury?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yup!" If Ewan's grin grew any wider, it'd have split his face. "Just imagine it! This is the centre of all advancement in magical arts. Just think about what kind of weapons they'll stock in there – what kind of magic they're infused with. There're so many different ways to enchant weapons, you know. I'll bet we-"

"And you think breaking into an armoury in the middle of the night so we can look at weapons is a good idea?" He questioned as they neared the door.

In response, Ewan merely chuckled softly before marching up to the door and rapping it three times. Then he paused and knocked the door three times again.

A pause, and then a small hole at eye level in the door slides open. "Ewan? That you?"

"None other. And I brought along a couple friends I thought would be interested." Franz took the opportunity to share a look with Amelia, who merely shrugged and gave a faintly-amused smile, one that he returned.

Whoever it was on the other side of the door let out an annoyed grunt. "Figures you'd drag along a bunch of strays."

"Hey!"

"Let it go, Ross." Amelia advised.

"Anyway, hang on…" There was the sound of someone fumbling with the keys, and the heavy door scraped open. "All right. The place is yours for thirty minutes. Knock yourself out, but one missing knife and it'll be my head, so don't try anything funny."

"Thanks, Kendrick."

"I'm not doing this for you." A torch was held up in the door, revealing a dark-hired soldier with a gruff expression. "But I owe Saleh and he thought this would be a good learning experience for his pupil."

"I know." Ewan nodded. "But thanks anyway."

Another snort, and the soldier shuffled back into his place near the wall. "The torches are activated by magic. I assume you know how to work 'em."

Amelia and Ross darted into the interior of the room and as Ewan stepped through, he turned to regard Franz, who was still standing in place, with a quizzical look. "What's wrong? I thought you'd love the chance to scope out some new weapons."

Franz swallowed. "This is… this is a severe breach of security."

Ewan's turned away and sighed. "Are you telling me you think any of us – Me, Ross, Amelia, or you, would try to make off with one of the weapons here? I kept Colm out of this for a reason, you know."

"That's not the point, and you know it."

Ewan shook his head. "Look, fine, whatever. I get it, mister knight in shining armour. You don't want to come in, that's your choice. Just go back to bed. Or, or King Ephraim's busy in a council with Pontifex Mansel right now, so if you want to go tattle to him, be my guest."

"I'm not going to rat out my friends." Franz snapped. "But neither can I condone-"

The sound of an explosion rumbled through the hallways of the palace, and instantly Franz whirled around, pulling himself into a defensive position. In the aftermath of the blast, silence descended once more. Not that the seeming quiet lessened the tension any. Explosions didn't just happen for no reason.

And now, as he focused, he could hear – very faintly – the sounds of pitched battle.

He grit his teeth.

Amelia appeared in the doorway, glancing around wildly. "What happened?"

"A fight of some kind." Kendrick stomped out, one hand clutching a halberd. "From…" he hesitated, apparently listening to the sounds of fighting in the distance. "From the main entrance and the East Wing, if I don't miss my guess."

"We have to go help-" Franz broke off as he realized that he was currently in his night clothes, which consisted of little more then a tunic and pants. No weapon, that was for sure. And his sleeping quarters (along with his equipment) was some distance away. What was he supposed to do now-

Oh. Duh.

The thought seemed to pass through everyone present at more or less the same time. As one, they turned to give Kendrick a questioning glance. The Rausten knight merely let out a sigh.

"Come on in. And hurry up." He snapped.

* * *

The interior of the armoury was lavish, and Franz suspected that in a better time, he'd have quite enjoyed looking through the weaponry available, but pressed for time as he was…

"Where are all the light swords?" Franz muttered, half to himself as he hurriedly searched through the racks.

"Here. Catch." Ewan tossed him a sword, still firmly affixed in its scabbard. "This should do."

"Thanks." Hurriedly, Franz loosened the blade, holding it up into the light. Then he blinked. The sword _was_ the light – or at least it was emitting a steady glow that looked all the brighter in the relative darkness of the armoury.

_Magic infused, huh?_ He thought. _I guess that sort of stuff does have its uses._

"I got a weapon." Amelia emerged further from the recesses of the armoury, clutching a lance in hand. "A little heavier than I'm used to, but I'll manage."

"Great." Ewan muttered offhandedly as he flipped through a spell book, another one dangling from a chain at his side. "Lessee… Fimbulvetr… Yep, this'll do nicely. Ross?"

"All set!" The axefighter proclaimed, holding up an axe that looked like it was designed for throwing.

_All set._ Franz thought grimly. _None of us have any armour on, we're facing an unknown number of enemies that could be all over the castle by now-_

Kendrick, who had been waiting by the doorway, suddenly snapped into a battle ready stance. "They're close."

"What?" Amelia came up behind him, her own weapon at the ready. "But the main entrance and the East Wing aren't anywhere near-"

"Then they've breached the palace in other locations." Kendrick snapped.

"A well-planned surprise strike in multiple locations in the middle of the night just when we've arrived. This has 'Grado' written all over it."

Any response the others might have made to Franz's statement was cut off as the figure of a soldier in Grad armour appeared in the doorway. At the sight of multiple armed fighters coming at him from the armoury, he hesitated for a brief moment, letting Kendrick close the distance enough to strike with his halberd.

The Grad soldier parried the blow and knocked Kendrick away with a kick. Stunned, the Rausten knight was sent sprawling, and Amelia leapt in to cover for the fallen soldier.

The two of them were rapidly trading blows, neither able to gain an advantage over the other. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ewan, one hand held out, his face a mask of concentration.

And then the young mage broke off, a frustrated growl in his throat. "I can't get a good shot! None of my spells are fast enough."

Franz resisted the urge to groan. The doorway was too narrow for the melee fighters to join in, and apparently the only fighter that could use distance attacks was claiming it wasn't good enough. He just had to hope that Amelia was good enou-

"Hey, yeah! Franz! The Light Brand!"

"Huh? The sword?"

"Yes! Point it at the knight and concentrate! Concentrate on the soldier!"

"Wha-"

"Just do it!"

What the hell. It couldn't hurt. Lifting the blade, he aimed the tip of the sword at the Grad, who at that moment slammed his weapon into Amelia's, his greater strength driving her back slightly – and leaving him open.

A bolt of pure light surged from the blade, slamming into the shoulder of the Grad knight and sending him staggering to the floor. Franz blinked and looked again at the weapon in his hands.

"I knew you could do it." Ewan grinned at him as he rushed to the door. "Spellblade are designed to be used by ordinary soldiers, so you don't need fancy incantations to activate the magic. Come on, there're still a lot of them out there."

"Yes, and we should be sticking together." Amelia pointed out, pausing to give Kendrick a helping hand onto his feet.

"We'll make for the throne room." Franz said after a moment's deliberation. "Pontifex Mansel and Lord Ephraim are there. They're the obvious targets."

A chorus of acknowledgment sounded from the people around him, and they broke into a run, heading down the darkened hallways of the Palace.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	47. Almost

No Longer Alone

* * *

Right, let's get on with it, shall we?

Battle scene in this one is awfully short, but plotwise, this was always a filler chapter anyway – eh.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Fighting through the halls of the Rausten palace in the middle of the night was a rather novel experience – and one Franz was rather keen on not repeating anytime soon.

Poor visibility aside, the layout of the place was confusing enough that if it weren't Ewan's constant directions they would probably still be wandering around trying to locate the primary area of the conflict. But the young mage's sensitivity to magic allowed him to sense the anomalies in the area – the Grad forces had apparently used some combination of teleportation and cloaking spells to manage to strike at the heart of the nation so effectively.

Still, the force had to have been a relatively small one – given the relative dearth of troops that they were cutting their way through, it was likely that they had consolidated the majority of their forces on an assault on the leaders. The throne room was thus the obvious target for both sides.

Even the few fights they'd ended up in had taken their toll on the four warriors, various nicks and cuts crossing over their skin – wounds they would have normally shrugged off due to armour were now constant irritants, sending fresh waves of pain through their bodies every time they moved. Only Ewan, who normally wore little armour and tended to stay at a distance in battles anyway appeared to be in top fighting form.

_Just as well I packed the vulneraries from the armoury, then._ Franz thought as he hastily quaffed a dose of the medicinal mixture, and sighing with relief as he felt the worst of his wounds fade. He handed the bottle to Amelia, who was at his side, and she gave a grateful nod as she drank the potion herself.

And then abruptly they were at the entrance of the throne room, the doors flung open to a scene of chaos.

* * *

The first thing that caught Amelia's eye was the throne. Naturally it would have been the most grandiose thing in the entire chamber regardless, but now it especially stood out.

Pontifex Mansel was there, still sitting on his throne, clutching his sceptre in both of his hands. A faint glow surrounded him and those in his vicinity, so she surmised that he had to be casting a spell of some sort.

Surrounding him were the Lords and rulers of the continent – L'Arachel, her eyes narrowed in determination as she held her staff forth, letting jets of fire and lightning storm through the darkened halls, King Ephraim and the princess Eirika, sword and spear gleaming in the faint light, Innes, Tana, General Seth, General Duessel – and a red-haired soldier that looked vaguely familiar.

Together they formed a loose semicircle around the Pontifex, fending off the seemingly endless number of soldiers that swarmed towards the throne, desperate on killing the Pontifex – or any of the other high-profile targets that offered such a tempting prize.

A moment later, another realization seared its way through her mind – aside from the assorted lords and generals, the four of them were the only other soldiers in the room that were attempting to defend the Pontifex – a few soldiers were also present, decked in the livery of Rausten's Guard, but they were slumped in various positions across the room and obviously in no condition to be fighting.

_Oh, no._ If they were the only ones here, then the others would have to be occupied somehow – probably dealing with splinter groups that had left to delay them from reaching the throne room. How exactly were the four of them supposed to make any meaningful contribution to the fight?

At that moment, she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye – an archer, half-hidden by shadows, was slowly drawing his bow back, ready to loose it upon the group surrounding the throne.

"There!" She called, and her friends, alerted to the danger, burst into action, moving to deal with the ranged fighters in the chamber. The archer Amelia had spotted went down quickly, a blast of ice shooting out from Ewan's hands to immobilize and entrap the bowfighter.

She moved forward herself, twisting her weapon in an arc to knock away a surprised archer's bow before she sent him crashing to the floor. Barely pausing to ascertain that her foe was no longer a threat, she moved on, turning to disable the next foe – and the next. And the next.

_Don't stop, don't make yourself an easy target, just keep moving._ Amelia ducked and dodged and weaved through the press of bodies – the deep gloom suddenly working in her favour – in the darkness, there were far more targets that she could strike at than than the other way around. And if Amelia was going to be honest with herself, she was going to need all the help she could get in a situation like this.

Her weapon was heavier than the light lances she was used to, but it made up for it with a barbed edge that allowed it to tear easily through enemy armour – as much as she hated to admit it, this was a weapon designed primarily for killing, and if she was going to get through this fight, she would need to use her weapon to is full potential. The lack of any armour helped too – as much as it meant that she was extremely vulnerable to even glancing blows, it afforded her some extra mobility and agility – things that were sorely needed in a chaotic melee like the one she was in.

Suddenly, she felt warmth and wetness rush down her shoulder, and she flinched away from the dagger that had struck her – the wound wasn't deep, she could still move her arm without too much effort – but the fiery pain would only be a distraction as they continued to battle. With a growl, she stumbled back, readying her weapon at the rogue who had ambushed her.

He was fast – constantly circling, trying to find an opening. Amelia stood her ground, all her attention focused on him, giving him no quarter. In the back of her mind, she desperately hoped that her friends weren't too occupied to be watching her back. She definitely didn't like the idea of a one of the enemy soldiers simply sneaking up and putting a knife in it. She was vaguely aware that Franz was in the immediate vicinity behind her, and the thought, fleeting as it was, comforted her

Abruptly the rogue burst into action, one hand whipping up to slash at her midsection. He was fast, but Amelia was just barely able to match his speed and knock aside the blow. Not bothering with trying to bring her cumbersome weapon around, she clenched her right fist and punched him in the cheek as hard as she could… which turned out to be pretty hard, at least given the way he reacted. The rogue crumpled to the floor, head lolling weakly to the side.

With a groan, Amelia stepped back, and then turned around, eyes already hardening with determination. Cries from the entrances to the chamber heralded the long-awaited arrival of other allies, but there was still much work to be done.

Tightening her grip on her weapon, Amelia charged into the melee once more.

* * *

"That was incredibly reckless." His mentor's eyes were hard as they stared down at him. "Entering a battlefield without any protective gear whatsoever? And in the middle of the night, in unfamiliar territory, against an enemy whose disposition, abilities and armament you knew nothing about? And with no backup aside from three others of the same age as you? I consider a miracle that all four of you are still alive, never mind that your injuries were so minor."

Franz kept his gaze steady. "I understand that it was extremely risky, General. We weighed the risks and decided that it was the best option, all things considered. We were not aware that you had the situation in the throne room so well under control, so we thought it best to reinforce you with whatever means available."

As he held General Seth's gaze, he saw the Silver Knight's expression soften a little. The red-haired paladin nodded slightly. "Truth be told, we were rather hard-pressed. Your intervention diverted a significant bit of pressure away from our defense of Lord Mansel. In fact," he continued wryly, "Lord Ephraim was so grateful for your aid that he's decided to overlook the reason why the four of you were able to respond so quickly to the sounds of battle, as well as why you four were wielding weapons of Rausten make."

"Er…"

"You'll also be pleased to know that Pontifex Mansel has graciously allowed you to retain those weapons, at least for the duration of the conflict."

"Um… please, uh, convey my thanks?" Franz ventured, unsure if that really was the right response.

"I believe I will." The general was smiling now. "And that aside, get some rest, Franz. That's an order."

Franz saluted until the general had left the vicinity and turned around. It was in that curious hour of the morning where the entire world was blanketed in a swathe of pale grey, giving everything an unearthly, surreal look. Letting a deep breath out, he noted Amelia being tended to by Natasha and headed over to check up on them.

As he neared, Amelia glanced up and flashed him a weary smile. "Another scar to add to the collection." She snarked as she indicated the ragged tear on her tunic and the scarred flesh underneath. "How are you holding up?"

"Been better." He replied noncommittally. "Didn't get hurt much during the last fight, though. I got lucky for once, I guess."

"Heh, yeah." Amelia grinned at him as Natasha finally finished her work. Flashing both of them a quick smile, the cleric left to tend to the others. "This was the first fight in a while neither of us had to go out of our way to save the other, wasn't it?"

"…" Franz thought it through. "I think so." He acknowledged after a pause. He silently wondered if Amelia was driving at any particular point, but the exhaustion of the previous night had chosen this moment to bludgeon him in between the soldier blades, and was fighting a growing urge to collapse onto the nearest bunk. "That's good, right?"

For a moment, Amelia looked like she wanted to say more, but then she shook her head. "Yeah, that's good. And now, sir knight, you look like you could use a soft bed." She said with a quirk of her lips.

* * *

Amelia had gone off to sleep by the time Amelia slumped herself on a bench in the castle gardens. Strangely enough, she didn't feel particularly tired herself, and so she simply sat there, staring listlessly at the pond in front of her.

The group that had attacked the palace were the last significant force of Grad soldiers in the continent – numbering approximately five thousand, according to General Duessel's estimates. They had been low in number – and yet they had staked all their efforts on an all-out strike on the palace of Rausten.

Her expression hardened as she pondered it – why would they devote themselves to such a suicidal attack? Even if they had succeeded in their theoretical goal of successfully assassinating the Pontifex, they would have certainly been annihilated in the process. So why had they attacked so forcefully anyway? Didn't their lives mean anything more to them?

She sighed and rubbed unhappily at her forehead. She didn't need this kind of distraction – not now. Not with the end so close.

_If we'd finished this up sooner, there wouldn't be several hundred dead bodies to be carted off and dumped in a mass grave. Those men would be able to go home to their families and friends._ The lancer closed her eyes. _Why now? Why so near the end? Why such suicidal charge?_

The Grad soldiers weren't allied with the Demon King – at least, not when in control of their own faculties. They _had_ to know that there was something big on the way, something potentially disastrous – she could understand if they weren't jumping for joy at the prospect of allying themselves with the armies of Frelia and Renais, but why would the remnants of Grado go out of their way to attack?

Unless they hadn't been aware of the presence of Lord Ephraim's armies in palace and had been hoping for a weaker target… but that made no sense. It wasn't like their arrival hadn't been made terribly public, and Amelia wasn't so naïve that she'd believe they didn't have Grad spies in the area checking up on their every move.

So… why?

"Amelia? What are you doing out here?" Quickly, she stood and saluted. General Duessel returned the salute.

"Nothing much, sir. Just pondering what would make the remnants of the mightiest army in the land hurl themselves into a suicidal mission like that." Normally, she wouldn't have been quite so open, but she was rather on edge now, and besides she felt that she knew the general well enough that he wouldn't take ire at her question.

In response, Duessel heaved a sigh. "Amelia, do you know how many Grad generals are still active? And before you start, I don't count. I haven't counted since Bethroen."

She frowned. "Valter and Caellach were killed at Jehenna, General Selena died in the marshes, Sunstone Glen's body was found in the Carcino mountains, so… one?"

"One." The general confirmed, his face stony. "One Blood Beryl, who goes by the name of Riev. A former general of Rausten, as it were, until he was exiled."

"Exiled?"

"Yes. For the rather severe crime of dabbling in necromancy and fel magics." He shook his head. "Of course, at this point Emperor Vigarde was little more than a puppet of the Demon King, and so he gladly welcomed a new follower – especially one so able."

Amelia remained silent.

"For one such as Riev, this was the perfect opportunity – a chance to strike at the man who had him exiled, a chance to hurt, however slightly, our forces… and of course, a chance to rid himself of the dead weight of the Grado soldiers still serving under him."

At this, Amelia did start, and she turned to the general, a questioning look in his eyes. Duessel didn't look her in the eye.

"He's probably in the heart of Darkling Woods right now, paying obeisance to the Demon King himself."

The sun had barely peeked over the edge of the world, but the chill that shot through Amelia's spine had nothing to do with the coldness of the dawn air.

* * *

"Ready?" Franz asked.

She returned a tired smile. "No."

Franz nodded once as they looked over the assembled soldiers in the courtyard, all in perfect battle formation, gleaming in the colours of four different countries. Frelia, Renais, Rausten, and even Grado were all together, working together for a single, unified goal.

He could see her swallow. "This is it, isn't it? This is really… once we're on the march, we'll be fighting our way straight to Darkling Woods, and then it ends. Everything ends. It'll be over soon."

Franz blinked. "Over…" he repeated the words to himself, thinking about what it meant. Peace again. The long, hard process of rebuilding, but compared to the horrors of war he'd witnessed over the last year, the path ahead looked so inviting.

"Over…" Amelia said again. "If only we can get through this, huh? Get through the hardest battle of our lives?"

"We've been through so many of them already." Franz said, trying to sound comforting. "We'll get through this one too." It was only in silence that he allowed his fears and nightmares to run free… he had to put up a strong face for the others.

"Yeah… I guess we will." Amelia's face looked wistful for a moment, and then she turned away, continuing her preparations. Sophia and Fort were snorting and tossing their manes, apparently filled with energy and ready to go free.

So intent was he on fastening the saddle of his horse that it was several moments before he felt the soft hand on his shoulder. Turning, he gazed into the nervous face of Amelia.

"Yes?"

"Franz…" She began softly and swallowed. "I, uh, I know this really isn't the right time for this, but… I really wanted to say it just once – before we, you know, went off to fight."

He kept his expression neutral and impassive, although he couldn't help the tiny tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Franz, I… I lo-" Her words were cut off as he leaned over and quickly planted a small but very real kiss on her lips. He kept his eyes open, so he could clearly see hers widen in surprise – pleasurable surprise, he hoped.

After pulling away, he gave her gentle smile. "I know, Amelia. I have a lot of things I want to tell you, too. But let's save them, okay? Let's wait until after al the fighting is over and when we can enjoy everything properly. Consider it our promises to each other that we'll both get out of this alive."

Her own smile strengthened, and she gave a nod. "Got it."

Just then, the call to march was sounded, and everything became a blur of frenetic action. One last shared look, and then they were hurrying to their respective mounts, ready to head into battle for the last time.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

*sigh* A short chapter again. Oh well. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review.


	48. Comrades

No Longer Alone

* * *

Hey. I'm back. Sorry about the month's wait.

In somewhat unrelated news, I got knocked down by a car recently.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

They had barely reached the edge of the forest when the battle began. And from that point on… it never really stopped. Light preserve them, but Franz had never realized just how _many_ fiends the Demon King had available.

The closest they had to breaks in the battles were rare, halting respites when they waves of attacks slowed, and the exhausted soldiers were able to pause for brief rests. Even then they were continuously urged on, the time limit until the arrival of the full moon always burning in the back of their mind.

It was during one of these increasingly infrequent breaks that Franz found Ewan slumped down at his side, his clothes soaked with sweat, dark circles under his eyes. Hesitantly, he dismounted, rubbing Sophia's fur absentmindedly. "How are you holding up?"

"About as well as you could expect." Ewan smirked at him, but nothing could hide the exhaustion etched over the spellcaster's face. "My home is in the mountains, remember? I'm pretty hardy for a mage."

"Well, I guess I'm not too hardy for a knight, because I feel ready to collapse." Franz muttered as he reached over to take a drink from his water skin – only to find it empty. He stared with undisguised disappointment at the sack.

"What, want some water? Allow me." Ewan allowed himself a smile as he closed his eyes and focused. A moment later, a block of glowing ice appeared in the air between the two of them – the result of a stripped down Fimbulvetr spell. Once the magic energy that had been used to create the ice dissipated, Ewan lit a flame in his hand, holding it close to the ice block.

"Here. Collect as much as you can. And once the block is small enough, you can try crunching on it. It's pretty refreshing."

"Thanks, Ewan." As he moved to collect the melting water, he aimed a glance at the mage. "This sort of thing is pretty handy to have around, isn't it?"

"Master Saleh once told me that the greatest strength of magic lies in sheer versatility. The greatest mages can tap directly into the flow of magic around them and shape it completely to whatever they desire. Most of us lower-level spellcasters used predefined spells – the magic has already been shaped and guided into a specific form – and they usually imprint the energy onto books." Ewan grinned. "Of course, learning how to _release_ these magics takes up a fair bit of time in its own right."

"I can imagine," Franz said softly. "So I guess that's what you're going to do after war? Keep studying magic?"

"Of course. I'm still not a patch on Master Saleh, and I've got a long way to go to be worthy successor to him. I'll probably continue working as a mercenary too." Ewan cocked his head to one side, a wistful smile on his face. "The easiest way to learn is by doing, after all."

"You can't say you haven't gotten more than enough practice." Franz commented somewhat ruefully as he stared out at the rest of the crowd. Noting that the water skin was relatively full now, he brought it to his lips, taking a long drink.

"No kidding. I've fought in… let's see… about a dozen major battles across four different countries now." Ewan blew out a breath of air. "It's actually kinda… I never really stopped to think about it. That's quite a lot, huh?"

"It really is." Further conversation was halted by an alarm blaring through the camp. The monsters were attacking again. The two friends shared a quick glance, and then they were on the move again, ready to continue the battle.

* * *

It had been two days since they'd set out from the Rausten Palace, and since then Amelia had barely gotten enough sleep to keep herself moving. Her nerves were completely frazzled, and she was starting to feel like one of the countless zombies – revenants, the correct term was revenants – that she'd struck down over the course of the past two days. Her endurance training that she'd received helped some, but by and large the long, hard slog wore her down constantly.

Sometimes, she felt as if it were nothing more than the promise of eventual victory and that it would all be over soon that kept her going.

But of course, it wasn't like she was the only one suffering – or even the one with the worst of it. As if on cue, a muffled thud sounded off to her side, and Amelia's head jerked up, eyes widening with alarm.

In a moment, she had darted through the press of bodies, squeezing through the soldiers and ignoring the annoyed grunts as she reached the source of the sound.

Reaching down, she quickly pulled Neimi to her feet. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine. I just… tripped." Her archer friend looked away.

Amelia paused. "Do… do you want to take a ride on Fort?" She asked. "It'll probably be easier on you-" She was cut off by her friend shaking her head.

"No, Amelia. Don't worry. I told you I'm fine."

"Neimi…" Amelia hesitated. "You don't look fine. It's okay. We're all exhausted, too."

"Yeah, maybe everyone else is exhausted." Neimi's voice was tight. "But look, everyone else is holding up fine, aren't they? I don't want to hold everyone else back." She looked at Amelia, and the lancer could see the weariness in her friend's eyes, as well as the determination and resolve.

Silently acquiescing to her friend's stubbornness, Amelia shifted her pace so she was matching her friend, the two of them continuing their trek through the dense undergrowth.

"Amelia?" Neimi's voice suddenly floated over.

"Yeah?"

"How do you deal with it?'

The lancer paused. "How do I deal with what?"

"All this stress. I mean, it's just… the fate of the _world_ is riding on this fight. Every step closer to the Temple or whatever just makes me feel worse. It's the biggest fight of our lives, one we absolutely cannot afford to mess up, and I feel worse than I ever have." She shook her head, and Amelia thought she could catch a glimpse of tears coming from her friend's eyes. "It's… I haven't been able to get any sleep. Even with how tired I am, my mind refuses to shut down. I keep worrying and fretting and – and seeing people get hurt. It's all in my mind, but it doesn't hurt any less. Colm, you, Franz, Artur… It's all so jumbled up together and I feel like I'm about to burst and – and I…" her last words trailed off into incoherence as she ducked her head, trying to stifle the sobs.

"Oh, Neimi." Amelia breathed out and amidst the press of weary soldiers all around them, she pulled her friend to a halt and hugged her, as tight as she could.

"It'll be okay," she said softly into her friend's ear. She didn't have any idea what else to say, but it didn't seem to matter to Neimi; she merely tightened her own hold around her friend's body, continuing to cry softly into her friend's shoulder.

Truth be told, Amelia felt a little like crying herself. But she willed herself to keep going. She had to be strong, for the sake of Neimi… and all her other friends.

* * *

"Just look at you." Natasha chided gently as she slowly cleaned out Franz's wound. "You're a mess."

"It wasn't my fault!" Franz protested. "The Gwyllgis jumped us from behind – it's a miracle I was even able to fend off three of them at the same time."

The cleric smiled. "I know. That takes commendable skill. You _have_ grown," and then her voice lost some of its levity as she raised her staff and focused on the wound. "But you're still going to be left with a couple more scars."

"I expected as much." A few more seconds passed in silence as she continued to work on the gash, until Franz broke the silence.

"You know, Natasha, I've been wondering."

"Yes? What is it?" She looked up, a questioning look in her blue eyes.

"Most of the clerics… and priests, actually; they know how to heal people, right?"

"Well, yes."

"I'd always wondered why. I mean, I've been to the sermons, and I don't remember it being said anywhere that people of the cloth had to be healers and… well, I'm just curious."

Natasha chuckled softly. "Well, first of all, not _all_ of the holy men and women are proficient in the healing arts, or with any sort of magic at all. But it is true that many of the faithful are more attuned to the ethereal and magical. Maybe it's the mindset. Regardless, the teachings of Saint Latona speak of an aversion to violence, at least against fellow humans," Natasha glanced off into the distance. "She was notably more supportive of the eradication of fiends. And of course, some of the holy men choose to disregard that particular aspect of our teachings." During this pause, she unwound a roll of bandages and began to dress Franz's injuries. "Anyway, back to the point – in between our proficiency for magic, our unwillingness to raise hands against fellow humans, and our desire not to feel completely useless in battles, our focus on healing came about naturally."

Franz looked thoughtful for a moment. "So that's how it went," a smile split his face. "Well, however, it came about, I'm glad you're here with me, Natasha. It's… comforting to have someone so skilled on hand to take care of the knights. We wouldn't have gotten far without you."

Natasha smiled back at him. "And where would the healers be without the brave, strong knights to form the front? We all have our parts to play in this conflict."

"Yes, well," Franz shrugged. "It's not like there's a shortage of soldiers, or anything. There are far less healers, and –"

"There may be more knights overall, Franz, but there are very few knights like you, in this army, or even in the world."

"What? Natasha, I'm not anything special," Franz shook his head. "Okay, my brother and General Seth have both mentioned that I have a pretty high rate of improvement, but so do other knights. And people like General Seth or General Duessel are still head and shoulders over me."

"That wasn't what I was referring to, although I _do_ agree with their assessment of you being an above-average fighter," the cleric's smile was gentle. "Do you remember what I told you before?"

"Before?"

"About your heart of compassion."

"Hm… oh, right." Franz frowned as he pulled that memory up from the depths of his mind.

"Your will to fight comes from the pure desire to protect. That is strength, even if it's not exactly the kind you understand," her voice fell in volume. "I think you're going to need that strength for what lies ahead."

Franz grew quiet, too. "Yeah. Maybe."

A few more moments of silence passed before Natasha leaned back. 'Well, that's your wounds looked to. Now be careful and don't exert yourself the next few…" her words trailed off as she realized what she was saying. "Nevermind," she smiled but this time it reflected weariness and hurt.

With a quick word of thanks, Franz stood and left.

* * *

The Gorgon howled at her as it advanced, snapping its claws infury. Amelia pulled Fort to a halt, tightening her hold on her lance as she regarded the beast.

Both of them charged, and asn the Gorgon lashed out, one arm swinging around to strike at Amelia, she twisted her lance around, letting the momentum of her weapon bat aside the arm, the barbed edge of her weapon tearing through the monster's chest. The monster jerked back, screaming. A moment later, it had reared back on its long tail, and it's eyes had an unpleasant shiny gleam to them.

_THUNK!_

A thrown axe embedded itself into the Gorgon's neck. The monster's scream abruptly died off into a choked gurgle, and as Amelia plunged her spear in once more, the creature collapsed heavily to the ground, writhing out the last of its life.

"Thanks for the assistance," she said over her shoulder at Ross, who hurried over to retrieve his weapon.

"No problem. It was really a stroke of luck I was nearby, nothing else," with a quick swing, he flicked off most of the blood that had splattered onto the axehead. "I mean, with that horse of yours, it's kinda hard for any of us footsoldiers to keep up."

"It's not like I've been moving particularly quickly. It's not like _anyone_ has," Amelia pointed out. "With all the fiends constantly slowing us down so much, we're dangerously close to slipping behind schedule." She turned to regard the rest of the soldiers picking off the remaining monsters. The ambush had been sudden, focused on cutting off a part of the army away from the rest of the pack..

"Hey. Amelia." Ross' voice sounded from behind her.

"Yeah?" She pulled Fort to a halt. "Anything the matter, Ross?"

"No, not really," Ross fell into step beside her. "I was just… I was just wondering about your mother. What's she like?"

"Mom?" Amelia questioned as she looked down. "She's… it's been a while since I've seen her. And… and I tried not to think too hard about her for a while. It just… hurt."

"But it shouldn't hurt so much now, right?" Ross gazed up at her. "I mean, now you know she's alive and all…"

"No, I guess not." A tiny smile found its way across her face. "She was… well, she was sickly. Even as a little girl, I could tell that my mother always feel sick easily. Maybe she just pushed herself too hard trying to look after me." She gazed up into the sky, her view blocked by the thick branches and leaves of the forest.

"What's your strongest memory of her, though? Is it a good one?" Ross prodded.

A shadow fell across Amelia's face. "Actually, my strongest memory of her would be the day she was taken away. It's…" She shook her head. "Nevermind. I also remember the time when I was going to bed. I was scared of sleeping alone, and then my mother came up and sang this lullaby to me. I can't actually remember the words anymore, but the melody was beautiful."

Ross was silent. "My mom never sang lullabies." He said after a while. "But she was a great cook, though. She always liked to make snacks for me and dad. That's when she wasn't helping him in the fields, of course."

"So many of us have lost parents, haven't we?"

"I dunno, I think the army tends to attract those types," Ross shrugged. "You start feeling mad, or maybe that the people who supported you and loved you are gone now, and you've got nothing left. This focuses you, more or less. Gives you a way to blow it all off."

"I guess that's not really true in my case." Amelia said softly. 'Even before I knew, I always had something I wanted to go back to. And now… after this war is over, I'm going to go see her again."

"Yeah," Ross grinned. "I've still got my dad too. Let's just finish this up and go home, huh?"

"Yes, let's."

* * *

Of all the things Franz had imagined himself doing during the final charge to the Black Temple, babysitting Myrrh was certainly not one of them.

Nevertheless, the young girl had abruptly received something of a rude shock as they passed through the final checkpoint. Probably something to do with her dragon blood (and Franz had some difficulty reconciling the shy, gentle girl with the imposing golden drake she could transform herself into at will, but she'd done it a few times in the past day to get them out of difficult situations, so who was he to argue?). Nevertheless she stumbled, one hand reaching up to clutch at her forehead.

'Hey, you okay?" From her other side, Forde leaned down to pat Myrrh on the shoulder.

"No, I'm fine," the Manakete's eyes were glassy and unfocused before she shook her head, seemingly pulling herself together. "We have to hurry. The last… the last of the dragons defending the Temple has fallen."

"Is that true?" Kyle's gaze hardened. "Lord Ephraim will need to be informed," he said shortly before riding off.

"C'mon, let's get you someplace where you can recover." Forde said to Myrrh after a moment's silence. "The monsters aren't really harrying us right now, so we should be okay for a few minutes."

With a hesitant nod, Myrrh followed after the two knights, flapping her wings to keep a short distance up in the air.

"So, Franz, you doing okay?"

"Fine," He gave a weary smile. "We've never really been in an endurance battle like this before, though. Multiple days and nights, small skirmishes all over the place, no real rest…."

"You mean _you've_ never been in a fight like that. I've had more than my fair share, let me tell you that," Forde rubbed his chin contemplatively. 'Still, for someone who's supposedly never been in an endurance battle, you look pretty okay."

"I do? The last time I saw a reflective surface, I looked like a total mess."

"…Yeah, we kinda expect you to. That's what I meant by 'doing okay'."

Franz sneaked a glance over his older brother. Forde had bags under his eyes as well, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat and grime. An ugly mark on his cheek still oozed red blood, although Forde had shrugged it off as 'not a big deal', and that there were important injuries to be looked at.

"I'm not the picture of elegance either, I know," his brother grinned cheerily, a stark contrast to the exhaustion around them. "But somehow, I always find the strength to keep going. I guess you have, too."

"I guess all of us have," as his gaze swept over the soldiers. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Amelia talking quietly to Neimi. "Everyone knows what's at stake here. We can't… we just can't _afford_ to fail."

Forde kept silent as they finally settled themselves down. Franz hesitated a moment before continuing, "You know, Forde…"

"Mm?"

"I think I learned this from you. How to keep pressing forward, no matter what."

"Okay, what are you on about?" Forde raised an eyebrow. "You're talking about _me_, you know. The guy who's been known to paint in the middle of the battlefield."

"I'm not saying you don't have some… odd habits. And I know you tend to project an image of a lackadaisical slacker who only likes to crack jokes. But once people start paying attention, they can see your determination plainly. Whenever you set your mind to something, you get it done in the end," Franz paused, glancing up at the sky, a half-smile on his face. "When I was a kid, you barely scraped by on all those tests to get into the army-"

"Wait, you knew? But how-"

"General Seth told me," Franz admitted. "But he also told me that once you realized how precarious your situation was, you worked harder than ever and kept pushing yourself until you made it as part of Lord Ephraim's personal retinue. Whenever I was going through my own training and felt it too difficult or draining, I would remember you… and then I'd gain the strength to keep going forward, because you'd already done everything before me." As Franz finished, he trailed off somewhat uncomfortably, staring at the ground.

"You're not getting all _mushy_ on my now, are you?" Forde chuckled.

"…Maybe I am." Franz smiled back.

Another silence descended for a few seconds before Forde slung one arm over his younger brother's shoulders. "Franz, you and I… we're going to get through this war. And then we'll go home. Together. That's a promise."

* * *

Amelia skipped back a step, letting the axe bury itself into the ground with a force that seemed to make the very earth around them shake. The Cyclops gave a bellow of frustration and with a jerk of its massive arms, raised the massive stone axe above its head again.

A flurry of fireballs exploded against the creature's exposed belly. None of them were able to pierce the thick hide of the massive monster, but it had apparently caused the thing enough pain that it shifted its attentions to the smaller mage.

"Whoops. Guess this thing's tougher than I thought," Ewan muttered at her side. "Hey, Amelia. Could you hold it off a couple seconds?"

Nodding, she urged Fort forward, despite the warhorse's obvious reluctance. As she neared, she hurled the javelin she had acquired as hard as she could at the beast. It broke through the skin – barely, and the Cyclops batted angrily at the jutting shaft it succeeded in snapping it away, leaving yet another broken weapon embedded in its swarthy hide. With a shake of her head, Amelia reached behind her and plucked out another, smaller lance. One hand that was nearly as large as her torso reached down, trying to squash her without using the heavy axe, but with a quick jerk of the reins Amelia pulled herself away at the last minute.

Just then, an intense light radiated from behind her, and a wave of intense radiated out from Ewan, waves of jagged ice tearing into the Cyclops. The monster gave a cry of agony and rage, stumbling forward before finally collapsing.

Even then, there was no rest. Swarming out from the trees all around them were more and more of the monsters, attacking. The closer they got to the temple itself, the more intense and ferocious the monster's attacks became, as if they could sense how much more desperate their position was becoming.

"Ewan" She called out as a Revenant lurched from the trees, claws reaching at him. Noticing the danger, the mage spun and backed off, hands raised to gather more magic and to defend himself. Throwing Fort in between Ewan and the rotting creature, she stabbed down at the creature's head, shattering skull and splattering chunks of brain all over the place.

From behind the first Revenant came more of the misshapen monstrosities, along with one or two Entombed. They always did seem to come in waves. Resisting the urge to utter a curse – it'd just waste a breath she couldn't afford – Amelia brought her lance up again. From behind her, Ewan launched a burst of flame at the nearest of the creatures.

Several hard minutes later, Amelia wearily clambered off Fort. The last of the monsters had fallen, although one of the Entombed had succeeded in scoring a blow on her mount that had nearly sent her mount into a blind panic. Only a firm hand and a hastily shouted command had prevented him from fleeing wildly or possibly bucking and throwing her off. Now, with a short lull in the fighting, it was probably best to treat the wound, and as quickly as possible.

"It'll be okay, Fort," she said soothingly as she quickly pulled out the healing salves. From behind her, Ewan stepped up, one arm folded protectively across a rather deep cut on his chest. Amelia paused in her work, noticing the rather serious wound for the first time.

"Uh, any chance you have a spare vulnerary?" He managed a slight smile as he spoke up, although the pain on his face was readily apparent.

"Can do one better," she replied as she dug into her pack. "Here." With a sweep of her hands, she tossed him an elixir bottle.

"Oh, that's nice. Thanks." Ewan hastily quaffed the medicinal potion, breathing out a sigh of pent up relief as his wound began to close.

_Our clothes are going to be nothing more than rags by the end of this._ Amelia thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "You can consider that repaying the favour."

"Favour? Oh!" The mage's eyes brightened. "Back when I first met you, wasn't it? In Bethroen."

Amelia chuckled. "Yeah, that long ago."

"And look where we are now. Best of friends." Ewan picked idly at his tattered robes. "We've been together for so long, I'd nearly forgotten there was a time when I hadn't the faintest clue who you were."

"You'll be heading back to Caer Paelyn after all this, right?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. For a while, anyway. There's always more stuff to do for a mercenary in training," Ewan paused and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey, Amelia. You figured out what you want to do yet? After the war, I mean."

When Amelia looked up at him, there was a soft, gentle smile on her face. "Yeah. After all this, I'll visit my mother first. And after that, I'll go to Renais and enlist with their Knights."

"Heh. Good choice, I think." He grinned as he stepped forward. "I'll be sure to come visit every once in a while. Just have to make sure Franz is treating you right."

She shot him a glare of mock annoyance. "And where, exactly, did I say _anything_ about Franz?"

The laughter that followed seemed to lift the weight pressing down on their shoulders, if only for a brief moment.

* * *

"General Seth!" Franz called out. At the warning, his mentor whirled, catching sight of the Tarvos that had been thundering up to him. A quick flash of silver in the pale moonlight, and the creature fell quickly.

Catching his breath, Seth turned to regard Franz, giving him a nod of thanks. As Franz brought Sophia closer in line with the Silver Knight's own mount, he took a quick glance up at the moon. It was almost full – they had until the next night, at the most.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the left?" The Silver Knight questioned with a raised eyebrow as soon as he got within earshot.

"Yes, there's – there's been a surprise attack on the flank. I was sent for reinforcements."

"All right." Turning to the rest of the squad behind him, Seth quickly gave several orders to several of the men, and they quickly formed up, riding in the direction Franz had came from.

"Sir?" Franz questioned. "I thought… isn't this side under attack as well?"

"Yes, but we can spare the men. The monsters have been pulling back somewhat, probably for an all-out defence of the temple, so we've been hard-pressed. If they're attacking the flanks as you claim, they must be trying to divert us from our charge."

In minutes, they had returned to the site from which Franz had set out, and it was still a chaotic mess. Steeling himself, Franz launched himself into battle, with the General at his side. The sudden rush of soldiers had managed to turn the tide of the frantic battle, and the fiends were quickly defeated off.

As an exhausted Franz resheathed his blade and wiped the sweat from his face, he noticed General Seth staring at him from out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes, General?" He inquired.

"…No. It's nothing." The Silver Knight looked away.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, nothing." His mentor gave him a tired smile. "And I meant that in the most positive way possible. The way you fight has improved tremendously. You know how to take initiative in battle, how forms and stances are steady and balanced… I could go on."

"I still have much to learn, General."

"No doubt. So do I. But I believe you've grown strong enough to stand on your own, now…" His voice trailed off in a contemplative silence for a moment. "When we return to Renais, I think you'll be ready for assignments separate from my own."

"I don't _feel_ ready at all, general." _The only reason I've come so far certainly hasn't been because I stood on my own. Everyone else stood with me and supported me, and that's why…_

"None of us ever do." Seth replied with a laugh. "But it all seems to work out in the end."

"…" Franz paused. "General?"

"Yes?"

"What if… what if _doesn't_ work out this time? We're all stretched to our limits right now… we're running out of time… and the toughest part of the fight is still ahead."

"Well, if you want me to make a blanket promise that we're all going to get out of this alive and well, I can't promise that. Anything could happen in a battlefield, after all. But I'll ask you to look at your friends around you, to look at our leaders. They've come so far, and surpassed so much already. All the great nations of the land stand united now. Franz," Seth's voice was low and filled with conviction. "_We will not fail_."

Franz stood there, silent, trying to grasp some of his mentor's teaching and conviction for his own. He was roused from this effort by the appearance of more growls coming from deeper in the forest, signifying the appearance of a fresh wave of enemy troops.

Student and mentor shared a glance of weariness, camaraderie, and determination before they raised their weapons and prepared to face the onslaught of darkness yet again.

* * *

"Agh!" Amelia gave a cry of pain as she tumbled from Fort, the victim of a glancing blow from some sort of darkness spell. In the near darkness she couldn't see the terrain around her, but luckily when the world became still around her again nothing appeared broken or badly injured, and so she hastily pulled her self to her feet.

Or at least she tried to. Apparently a root of some kind had tangled itself around her leg, and in the darkness, the moon's light obscured by the thick branches, she couldn't find the offending root. With a growl of frustration, she yanked hard, trying to dislodge it from whatever plant it belonged to.

No luck. Fumbling around her pack, she quickly grasped the torch – _I knew it would come in handy sooner or later_ – she'd stocked earlier, and made to light it.

An unearthly scream drew her attention, to a floating eyeball hovering just outside of her striking range from her lance. Amelia faced down the Arch Mogall, and for a moment she felt a jolt of her fear, which quickly faded away under a wave of anger and determination. She was _not_ going to fail after having come so far, and certainly not to an oversized floating eyeball!

The Mogall released a blast of dark power at Amelia, and she dodged to the side, as far as the entangling root would allow her to, anyway. Her eyes narrowed in determination, and she drew her lance out, trying to strike at the creature. But it was too fast, darting away, and –

And more of its brethren were appearing from the shadows. Amelia pursed her lips. Not good. Fleetingly, she wished Franz or Ewan were here. Having the ability to start a fire sounded pretty good right about now.

Then she glanced down at the torch in her hands. Then she looked up at the gathering monsters, all of them glaring at her as best they could.

"Well, here goes nothing." She muttered to herself. As quick as she could, she set the torch aflame, and tossed it at the nearest bundle of leaves she could find. Luck was with her; apparently it hadn't been very rainy recently, and the leaves caught fire easily, sending a large blaze up in a matter of seconds.

For some reason, Ewan's somewhat patronizing lecture about how a mage could extinguish magical fire whenever he or she wanted and thus could avoid fires blazing out of control was running through her head as she ducked down, using the greater visibility to quickly untangle herself from the root. Soon, she was able to yank herself free and kick the root deeper into the undergrowth.

The jubilation at her newfound freedom was quickly replaced by anxiety – while the fire had served to distract and alarm the Mogalls for long enough, they were now rallying and gunning for her yet again. Meanwhile, the blaze wasn't getting any smaller.

With a shake of her head, Amelia brought her lance up and struck down the nearest of the eyeballs, sending it crashing to earth. As more of them congregated around her, she continued her movements. She had some vague idea of moving further away from the rapidly spreading blaze, but the flow and press of battle was what truly dictated her movements anyway.

Abruptly a massive battle-axe carved through one of the Mogalls she had been aiming for and she stepped back in surprise. Her eyes widened, first in recognition, and then in exuberance.

"General Duessel!"

The Obsidian was at her side, moving with surprising grace and agility as he continued his rampage through the Mogalls. Three more had dropped to brutal slashing strikes from his battle-axe before he turned back to her.

"Amelia! Get out of here, now!"

Quickly, Amelia obeyed, backing up and keeping watch to ensure none of the flying eyeballs ambushed her. Shortly after, the General was at her side, and she could see several mages running about and casting Fimbulvetr spells to contain the blaze.

"That was reckless, girl," he said gruffly, but without any real ire in his voice

"I know, but I was trapped and I needed a distraction." She turned to gaze wearily at him from the corner of her eye. "Sorry to have worried you, sir."

"Well, it worked, so I suppose I can let it pass." He replied with a shake of his head. "Now come on. We're in the last lap, and we can't afford to fail."

"Understood." She bounded forward, until she was walking side by side with the Obsidian. Before, she would considered this unbelievably presumptuous on her part, but now… now she felt closed to the aged warrior. She supposed it was only natural, after having spent so long training under him.

There was silence for a few more moments, until Amelia took the initiative to speak up again. "General, thank you."

"Hm?" Rousing from his own musing, Duessel turned to look at her. "What for?"

"For my mother. For saving her… for keeping her safe."

"You've already thanked me for that. Many times, as a matter of fact." Even in the gloom, she could tell that he was smiling.

"I know, but this is something different. General, even when I was just a kid… I wanted to be a soldier, so I could be strong enough to protect those I cared for. And whenever I thought about being a model soldier, it, well, you were always the person that came to mind."

"Was I now?" He chuckled softly. "You flatter me, lass."

"Well, if what you've done during this war is any indication, I'd been underestimating you all the while," she replied gamely before her face became serious again. "You opposed the war and nearly got yourself killed for it. You helped Ephraim to stop Emperor Vigarde and the Demon King's madness because it was the right thing to do – even some of the other generals couldn't manage that. You went out of your way to train a scared, helpless girl so she could hold her own on the battlefield, and… and now, I've also learnt that you were the one who saved my mother, that you provided a house for her and a living, all at your own expense.

"General, I've seen that you _are_ everything a soldier should aspire to be," she looked up at him, and although she could not know it, there was a glow of admiration in her eyes. "And – and I can only hope that one day I'll be even half as great a soldier – as great a _person_ – as you."

Duessel was silent for a very long while as they continued their trek through the woods. And just as Amelia caught sight of Fort in the distance and whistled to get him over, he spoke again.

"Thank you, Amelia," his voice was oddly husky. "I'll do my best to continue living up to your expectations. And to do that, we'll both need to get out of this in one piece."

"Understood." She nodded as she patted Fort to reassure him and began to mount him again.

"Let's go. There's still plenty of work to be done."

* * *

Pale sunlight was starting to filter in through the canopies once more as Franz charged the Wights congregating around him. A quick backslash removed the head of the nearest one, and a vicious stab shattered the shield arm of another of the reanimated skeletons.

With the advent of daylight, the allied forces had finally come into view of the massive structure that was the Black Temple – and the hundreds, if not thousands, of demons all standing guard. It had stood to reason that these were the strongest of all the darkness-birthed creatures, and they constituted the last line of defence protecting the Demon King.

Gazing over the seething hordes, he noted the apparent incongruity of a single man standing by the steps of the Temple, dressed in the robes of the Rausten Bishops. Well, that man could be worried about later.

The cavalry had been assigned to lead the charge, and as Franz urged Sophia forward, he caught a flash of golden hair and crimson armour.

_Amelia_. Almost subconsciously, he nudged Sophia's reins, guiding her closer to hFort and his rider.

She was handling herself well, lance darting forth to knock down any of the foes that approached her. As he neared, she reared Fort back, and used the extra momentum to pierce through an Entombed's forehead, killing (or was it re-killing?) the creature instantly

"Amelia." He called. She turned to him, and a grin split her face.

"Franz!"

"Are you okay? I haven't seen much of you ever since we started out from the palace."

"Yeah, I know," she gave a weary, rueful smile. "I barely had enough time to catch any rest, let alone get around socializing."

The trailed off into silence. Suddenly, with the urgency of the situation pressing so close on them, they didn't have much to say to each other that didn't appear completely frivolous.

Finally, Amelia nodded and guided Fort towards the temple. "Well, we should hurry up."

"All right. We'll go together." As one, the two of them continued their charge, sword and lance working in tandem to stave off the rush of oncoming foes. Gwyllgi, Wights, Deathgoyles, all these and more pressed down on them, but their skill (and luck) was enough to bear them through.

Suddenly, a golden bolt of light burst directly in front of the two of them, creating an explosion that sent Franz flying. After a brief moment where his head swam, he looke dup to see that Amelia had been similarly unseated.

"Soph-!" He couldn't see her anywhere. Had she been – no, there was no time to worry about that. Tightening his grip on the Light Brand, he turned to face their attacker.

The Bishop. In the grey dawn, he looked… ghastly. Deep, sunken eyes glared at them with inhuman malice, his yellowed skin stretched taut across his face, lips pulled back to reveal a sneer of hate.

"Fools!" He screamed, and his voice was dry and cackling, and the knight could see froth building at the edges of his mouth. "Struggling vainly against the new age! Why do you not despair? _WHY DO YOU NOT YIELD?_" As he finished his cry, he raised his staff again, and another pillar of light screamed down from the heavens.

"Get down!" He was suddenly aware of Amelia tackling him from the side, and both of them were rolling along the dried leaves of the forest floor while another light burst crashed into the ground behind them.

"Thanks." He gasped out, already pulling himself to his feet again. Why would the Demon King have a wielder of Light magic on his side?

Well, two could play that game. As the insane Bishop raised his arms yet again to summon another spell, Franz focused, and from the Light Brand he was carrying a bolt of Light energy surged forth, slamming into the Bishop's chest.

Unhappily, it failed to do much damage at all, although to be honest Franz had half-expected that. He was more interested in distracting the man from trying another of his powerful light spells, and in that aspect at least, he had succeeded. A quick glance around told him he couldn't expect help from others – they appeared to be tied down dealing with what appeared to be an undead Dragon of some sort – and so he narrowed his eyes.

"Amelia, I'll cover you with the light blasts." He said softly, hoping the madman wouldn't overhear. "You run over and take him down."

"Got it." Instantly, she was darting forward, lance raised high. Meanwhile, Franz narrowed his eyes, sending bolt after bolt of light at the man.

"Worms." The Bishop hissed, voice burning with manic intensity. "Your struggles are pointless!" Abruptly, a shining sphere of light surrounded the man which handily blocked off Franz's attacks – as well as Amelia's thrust with her own weapon. With a grin, he spread his arms further and the sphere exploded outwards, sending Amelia crashing to the ground.

Ignoring the impulse to call out her name, Franz leapt forward himself, raising his weapon high to intercept the next blast of Light energy from the Bishop. The force of the blow travelled up his arms, and Franz gritted his teeth. The man was skilled, there was no doubt of that.

"You!" A commanding voice proclaimed from behind, and a moment later another burst of Light magic shot through the air, to be intercepted by a blast from the Bishop. Twisting his head, he saw the imposing sight of L'Arachel astride her gelding, eyes shining with determination. "Your unholy crimes are at an end!"

"_You!_" The Bishop growled in turn as he beheld her, his bony fingers tightening around his staff. "You're that man's niece. Oh, I am going to _enjoy_ this!" With a deft motion of his hand, he had created another sphere of Light that he launched at the princess.

Meanwhile, Franz hurried over to Amelia, ignoring the duek of Light magic behind him. Crouching by her side, he did a quick evaluation of her wounds. "You okay?" He questioned.

"Been better." She mumbled as she tried to pull herself to her feet. Hurriedly, Franz reached down to aid her. Amelia had just succeeding in standing and grasping her weapon again when a triumphant call came from L'Arachel.

"You cannot win, traitor!" She proclaimed. "Divine providence is always on the side of virtue and justice! _And_ I have a more powerful spell than you!" Her eyes appeared to glow pure white for a brief moment, and she thrust he hands out. "IVALDI!"

A glorious blaze erupted from her outstretched fingers, drowning the area in a sea of pure light so intense that Franz and Amelia had to look away. When the radiance had finally faded, the two of them glanced up hopefully – and Franz's heart sunk as he heard the sound of mocking laughter.

"Oh, you think you'll win because you have the powers of _God_ with you, is that it?" His eyes were wider than ever before, and burns seemed to cover most of his exposed skin, stripping from him all but the most superficial aspects of humanity. "Well, guess _what_, **princess**. I have the backing of one greater than humanity, too! Behold, the might! Of the DEMON KING!" With another peal of insane laughter, the Bishop sent forth a stream of shining light at the Princess, forcing her to counter with her own. And despite her best efforts, it was apparent that she was being steadily pushed back.

"Oh, how I've _longed_ for this! This day where all of your pathetic and much vaunted _efforts_ come to NAUGHT! Soon… soon, this wretched world will **burn**, and there's not a single thing any of you witless _roaches_ can do to stop it! Scream! CRY! **BEG!** Beg for your pathetic – _schrrlch!_ – Ahhak! Gah…" The Bishop sank to his knees, twisting to look at the lance and sword buried in his torso as L'Arachel, exhausted, slumped back.

Franz and Amelia, still grasping their respective weapons, merely stared at him, each taking in deep breaths.

Finally, the madman peeled his lips back once more. "Fools. This changes… n – nothing. The Demon King – will – will…" The corpse flopped limply to the ground.

"Lady L'Arachel, are you-"

"Fine! I'm fine! Splendid work, you two making use of the distraction I provided for you." The princess of Rausten stood again, brushing away dirt from her knees. "Oh, look, it appears they've cleared the path to the entrance. Splendid." And without another word, she marched off towards the entrance, where the rest of the army was congregating.

Franz shared a brief glance with Amelia – they both knew it wasn't time to celebrate yet. Breaking into jogs, they reformed at the entrance to the Black Temple, along with the rest of the army.

"There's no point in bringing along everyone." Ephraim was saying softly. "Not only would they not fit, but given circumstances we'd just be increasing casualties. A team of our best soldiers, that's all."

"Agreed." Duessel nodded. "We need to hit hard and fast for this."

A few minutes later, Franz's eyes widened slightly as both his and Amelia's names were called out as part of the team to enter the Temple itself.

Well, he'd hadn't exactly been planning on sitting this fight out anyway. As he stepped forward, he shared a brief glance with Amelia.

"I'll be your sword." He said softly. The faint traces of a smile crept across her face.

"I'll be your shield." She replied. And then, the two of them turned to stare into cavernous maw that marked the entrance.

It was time to end this.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

I would like to say that I had way too much fun writing Riev's dialogue.

Thanks for reading. Please review.


	49. Over

No Longer Alone

* * *

Here's the penultimate chapter to this story. I hope it's a worthy one.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The interior of an ancient temple of doom that had been constructed in an age before hers had never been something that Amelia had seriously considered at any prior point in her life, so she wasn't entirely sure what to expect when she stepped into the halls of the Black Temple. Maybe it would be filled with some sort of mystical energy that she couldn't comprehend or the entire place would refuse to obey the laws of the known world and have the structure rearrange itself at random.

In reality, it was mostly dark. And quiet. Eerily quiet. Amelia couldn't help glancing up and down the dim corridors for monsters and fiends she was sure would be jumping her any moment.

To her surprise, there was no sign of any creatures within. Judging by the uneasy reactions of the other fighters around her, this was unexpected and somewhat unwelcome. They couldn't defeat the Demon King if there wasn't any Demon King for them to fight, after all.

Soon, the thirty-odd soldiers found themselves standing in a vast, cavernous room. While several torches around the area burnt with an eerie blue flame, the majority of the place was still too dark to make out properly. And given what little details she could glean from the architecture, Amelia wasn't terribly interested in finding out more about the place.

Before she could say anything else, there was a sudden thickening in the air around all them. Subconsciously, the grip on her weapon tightened, and she shifted into a fighting stance.

Standing there, in front of the assembled group of warriors, was the Demon King Formortiis, still in the guise of Prince Lyon of Grado. A soft smile played across his face as he beheld the people who had come to face him, and he spread his arms wide.

"So you've come," he said in a soft, almost tranquil tone of voice. Amelia furrowed her brow. Back at the Narube River he had been using some sort of weird universal communication with everyone. Now, though… why was he speaking normally? "I knew you would, Ephraim. I always knew you would."

"Lyon!" She heard the lord of Renais snap as he moved forward, but she could detect the sounds of skittering in the gloom around her and she quickly shifted her gaze away from the conversation – she probably wasn't going to come to blows with the Demon King, and likely wouldn't have been a match for him anyhow. The wet, squelching sound that she had come to associate all too unhappily with the revenants were sounding deep in the darkness, as were the clattering of the skeleton warriors.

A flare of brilliant light distracted her, and she turned to catch sight of Lord Ephraim stabbing forward with Siegmund, Lady Eirika following up quickly with a series of horizontal slashes with Sieglinde. The Demon King countered with a small blast of dark energy, using the distraction to skip backwards and further into the recesses of the Temple.

Any thoughts of pursuing the Demon King were quickly erased as waves of monsters began to pour in from hidden alcoves and entries from all over the main hall. Taking in a deep breath, Amelia brought her lance up and steeled herself for one final battle.

* * *

"Whoa!" throwing himself to the side, Franz barely dodged the massive cleaver of the Cyclops as it slammed deep into the ground, carving out a deep gouge from the polished stone.

_How did something so big sneak up on me?_ He wondered as he lifted his blade, firing a burst of light at the monster's eye. The creature howled in agony and staggered back, giving Franz the opening he needed to stab the creature in the stomach, opening a fatal wound.

Whirling, he cut down a Revenant that had been sneaking up behind him and continued moving deeper into the temple. All around him he could see his friends and allies fighting ferociously to stave off the dark swarms all around them. How were there still so many fiends left to oppose them, anyway?

Skipping under a wild halberd swing from one of the skeletons, he severed the skull from the creature's neck and kicked the collapsing body away into the darkness. Briefly he caught sight of Ewan hurling blasts of fire at a Gorgon, of Joshua weaving through the enemy ranks as his frost-blue blade whirled and slashed through his foes, of Sir Garcia bringing his axe up in mighty swings that sent the monsters flying.

Cutting down another monster that had leapt at him, Franz noted a flash of red armour and golden hair somewhere to the right. _How did Amelia get so far away?_ Quickly, he turned and began to make his way over to her. As he did so, he saw Neimi and Ross at her side, helping her face down a pair of the centaur beasts.

Just as he reached the trio, Amelia succeeded in putting down one of the fiends, and a quick strike from Ross finished the other. Amelia looked over and gave a brief but comforting smile.

"We should stick together," he said softly, and she gave an affirmative nod.

"Yeah, I was forced away from the group by a rather overenthusiastic Gwyllgi. Come on, let's get back to the others-"

A thunderous bellow sounded from behind them, and Franz twisted to see a Cyclops lumbering through the melee, its single eye fixed in a pointed glare at the tiny group.

"Okay, seriously," Franz muttered to himself. "What did I do to get all the Cyclopes so pissed off at me?" stepping back, he raised the Light Brand and prepared himself to fire a bolt of light energy at the monstrous creature when from behind him came a low, unearthly growl that sent a shiver up the back of his spine.

Suddenly, something slammed into the ground right beside him – Franz had a brief, confused impression of a giant claw of some kind – and as it pulled back it took a large quantity of the ancient stone with it. Acting on instinct he swung and fired a bolt of light in the general direction that the attack had come from, and was rewarded with the sound of an impact and groaning, creaking sound as whatever it was moved further into the darkness.

Franz frowned. The bolt of light had briefly illuminated dark grey and purple skin… along with what appeared to be scales. _Too large for a Gorgon, though, so what…?_ Suddenly Amelia slammed into him from the side, and as he hit the ground he saw the Cyclops' axe crush the earth where he had been standing a moment ago. _Ugh. Careless._

"Thanks," he said out loud, and Amelia nodded briefly as she stood.

"Be careful next time," was all she said before she lunged at the Cyclops, with a brief jab at the midsection of the monster that drew blood. Following up behind her, Franz plunged his blade deep into the torn flesh, aggravating the wound.

Between the four of ting low the Cyclops, sending it crashing to the ground with a thundering crash. With a weary shake of his head, Franz shifted his focus to more of the skeletons marching forward in steady lines.

_He's just trying to delay us._ One of the bonewalkers stabbed forward with its blade. Twisting, Franz let the jagged metal flash past him and brought his blade down through the monster's midsection.

"Ah!" the cry of alarm pierced the heated sounds of battle around him, and he instinctively twisted, seeking out Amelia.

There she was! There was blood running down one leg, the remains of several Wights scattered around her body – and she was limping away from the looming figure of a Gorgon. Just as he turned to rush to her side, an Entombed shuffled into his path, rancid claws reaching forth to tear at him.

"Get out of my way!" Franz snarled as he slashed wildly at the creature, magic-imbued blade slicing through wide swathes of the rotten flesh. Amelia needed his help. Over the shoulder of the shambling beast, he could see her stumble back, barely avoiding one of the Gorgons flailing claws.

He wasn't going to let her down.

* * *

Narrowly avoiding a sweep of the creature's oversized claws, Amelia stepped forward, stabbing her weapon straight at the Gorgon's chest.

Unhappily, the Gorgon refused to cooperate in letting the young lancer kill it and the lance clattered against the toughened scales ineffectively. Uttering a tiny curse, she quickly stepped back to avoid the inevitable counterattack – and ended up colliding with a revenant that had been attempting to sneak up at her from the back.

Thrown off-balance, Amelia stumbled and one of the Gorgon's flailing arms narrowly missed her, instead striking the shambling corpse and sending it flying backwards into the shadows. Taking advantage of the distraction, Amelia struck at the creature again, putting as much force as she could into the blow.

This second strike proved more effective, drawing blood as well as even more of the monster's wrath. Twisting its serpentine body around, it swung one of its arms in an overhead arc, using it as a makeshift club. With a grunt of exertion, Amelia succeeded in yanking her lance from the Gorgon's body, falling back and avoiding the strike in the process.

And then Franz stepped in, Light Brand blazing with radiant power as he slashed forward, severing the Gorgon's arm at the shoulder in a single slash of his blade. The Gorgon howled in anger, giving Amelia the opening she needed to pierce the monster's neck with a quick thrust. A wet gurgle sounded, and the Gorgon flopped to the ground.

Amelia barely had time to give Franz a brief nod of thanks before a pink, vaguely human shape hurtled into the wall beside them with bone-breaking force. As it tumbled limply to the ground, Amelia's eyes widened in shock and fear as she recognized Neimi, unconscious and bleeding heavily.

"Neimi!" as she knelt beside her friend and tried to tend to her friend's injuries, she was vaguely aware of Franz whirling to confront the centaur that had originally hurled the archer through the air, but her attention was drawn by the severity of the injuries on her friend's body.

Her right arm was twisted at an unnatural angle – definitely broken. Her face was pale and unmoving, save a tiny trickle of blood that escaped from the corner of her mouth. There was a deep wound across her chest, almost certainly made by an axe. Quickly, Amelia uncorked her elixir and poured what remained of the contents over her wounding, praying silently that she was not too late.

To her relief, she could see the ugly wound beginning to seal itself up, but Neimi remained unconscious and Amelia didn't feel like waking her up. She wouldn't be able to continue fighting anyway – not with her arm like that!

"Neimi!" there was the sound of scuffling boots behind her, the sound of a blade piercing flesh, and an enraged scream. A moment later Colm was crouched at her side, his face pale, one hand clutching a bloody dagger, and the other reaching out to Neimi.

"Is she…?" he questioned softly.

"She'll be okay," _I think._ Standing, Amelia looked around at the battle all around her. Maybe she could find Sister Natasha… wait, had she even been one of those called to enter the Temple? Amelia couldn't remember.

A flash of movement from the corner of her eye alerted her to danger, and she whirled, plunging her lance deep into the Deathgoyle that had attempted to dive-bomb her. With a sigh, Amelia tore the dying creature from her lance and prepared to continue wading into the fray.

And then suddenly, as if a hidden switch had been flipped, utter silence descended upon the Black Temple, and every fiend still capable of doing so immediately halted their assault, scurrying away deeper into the darkness. Warily, Amelia stepped up besides Franz, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for any signs of hostility.

Nothing.

"Is it…" she paused, glancing around the room. "Is it over?"

"I don't know," he replied tersely. 'Come on. Over there," he said as he started for the central alter, where she could see Lord Ephraim and Lady Eirika standing silently.

Just as she neared them, however, a tiny ball of light floated up from what she could now identify as the body of Prince Lyon. The siblings of Renais were obviously stunned as well, but before anyone could do anything the floating orb of light zipped further back into a room at the far end of the chamber.

A moment later, Ephraim started after the light, his sister close behind.

With the unmistakable feeling of dread in her heart, Amelia gripped her weapon and hurried after the twins.

* * *

He had always known it would be _possible_, of course, that they ultimately wouldn't be able to stop the Demon King in time to prevent him from resurrecting his body, but now that the possibility was very rapidly becoming reality, Franz could feel fear flooding through his body, and he fought to keep his breathing calm.

He had to do this. There was no turning back. He had to this for everyone. For Amelia.

Abruptly they stepped into a gigantic room, the design far more elaborate and ostentatious than any of the rooms prior. The stone torches once more flickered with eerie light, throwing shadows all over the room and creating pockets of darkness all over the place. Carved statues depicting horrific beings leered down from their perches, eyes glaring down at the central altar in the very centre of the room.

Of course, what drew the attention of everyone else in the room was the gigantic, silent body of the Demon King, standing in the centre of the chamber, chains adorning its entire body.

Even as Franz watched in horror, the tiny ball of light sank into the Demon King's body, and a low rumbling began to spread across the entire room.

Slowly but surely, the Demon King began to move. As it tightened its muscles, the chains binding him snapped as if they were no more substantial than straw, falling to the ground with a horrible clattering noise.

"Ephraim!" he had the frantic shout from L'Arachel. "The Sacred Stone! Use it quickly!"

Hurriedly, Ephraim dug into cloak and held the shining jewel up into the air, letting the rainbow light spill forth into the dark room. After a moment the light began to focus itself on the Demon King's body, eliciting a roar of rage from the ancient being.

The very air in the room appeared to tremble as everyone watched in silence at the battle of wills between the representatives of light and darkness. And then, with a stunning abruptness, the Demon King slumped forward, thick arms reaching forward to support its body as the ball of light was drawn into the Sacred Stone.

"They – they did it!" Amelia exclaimed. "They've trapped the Demon King's soul! They _did_ it!"

"Yeah, but…" Franz frowned. "If they soul's gone from the body… why is it still moving?"

Slowly, ponderously, the body of the Demon King righted itself, focusing the glowing intensity of its eyes on Lord Ephraim – and the Sacred Stone that he was holding.

"The soul is captured, the body is all that remains!" the king of Renais bellowed the words as he raised his lance to rally everyone else. "Everyone! This is it. Bring the Demon King down!"

Almost instinctively, Franz looked to Amelia, who was staring up at the massive figure of the Demon King, her face set into a determined glare. She noticed him staring at her after a moment, and a smile crossed her features.

"Let's do our best," she said softly.

He nodded in reply. "Here goes."

As they charged to the lumbering Demon King, the remaining monsters began swarming out from the shadows, obeying their dark lord's single command to protect him. Franz ducked, dodged, whirled, slashed, and stabbed, barely breaking stride as he headed for the Demon King.

Abruptly, a Bael lurched down at him from the shadows, multiple beady eyes glaring at him. Dodging a strike from one of its many legs, Franz retaliated by stabbing it in an eye. With a scream, it staggered back, before regathering itself and preparing to lunge.

A deep roar quickly put an end to that as a massive clawed foot descended, crushing the Bael into pulp. Franz craned his neck back, staring up at rotting flesh, hanging scales, and a glaring, reptilian face. The zombie dragon opened its mouth and let loose another earth-shattering bellow before it struck down with its claws again.

* * *

Amelia gaped with shock at the sudden appearance of the zombie dragons. Bad enough that they had to deal with the Demon King, but when had he ever gotten monsters like _those_ on his side? Suddenly she remembered the claw that had attacked them from the shadows, and her insides churned. He'd been saving these for the last stand, it seemed.

Hurriedly, she ran over to help Franz, plunging her lance deep into the thigh of the beast attacking him. The dragon whipped its head around to stare at her, and then lunged, opening its mouth to reveal rows of serrated teeth, each easily the length of her arm.

_How can something so big move so fast!_ Amelia ducked away just in time to avoid getting shredded, and was about to retaliate – maybe aim for the eye this time – when a surge of brilliant light flooded the room, temporarily blinding the lancer as she staggered away.

_Where did that come from?_ In the split second of confused impression she'd received, it sounded like it had come from the Demon King himself. Shaking her head to dispel any afterimages, she saw the zombie dragon bearing down on her, jaws opened wide.

With a cry, she leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding getting bitten again. Franz was rushing up to her side, firing blasts of light energy against the dragon's thick hide that did little more than leave scorch marks on the skin.

"It's fast," she commented grimly.

"Those pillars," Franz pointed to a corner of the chamber. "It's too big to fit inside there so we can trap it and slow it down."

Nodding in agreement, Amelia began heading for the pillars, willing herself to reach them in time before the dragon caught up with them again. There was a roar from behind her, the beating of giant wings-

Amelia threw herself to the ground and the dragon swooped over her, narrowly missing another attempt at seizing the young girl in its jaws. It landed heavily on the ground, its elongated neck twisting in an attempt not to let her out of its sight.

Taking the opportunity, Amelia struck again at the dragon's haunch, tearing apart more skin and spilling dried, blackened blood. _Am I actually damaging this monster?_ She wondered.

The dragon reared back again, probably trying to snap at her with its jaws once more, when suddenly she caught sight of a flash of green and suddenly Franz was balancing himself precariously on the monster's snout, one hand still clutching his weapon.

"Fra-!" she cried out, and was cut short as Franz stabbed his blade deep into the dragon's eye. At the same time he loosed a burst of light energy and the dragon reared back, howling in anger and dismay. With a quick snap of its neck, Franz was sent flying onto the cold stone floor.

Amelia rushed to his side, noting with relief that Franz was sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, which meant that the injuries weren't that severe. Probably.

"What did you do that for?" she questioned rather brusquely as she helped him to stand.

He shrugged and gave a tiny grin. "It was worth a shot."

She was about to fire off a retort when there was a thud of a claw impacting stone behind her, and she turned in time to see the dragon open its maw, looking for all the world as if it were about to breathe fire at them.

Amelia wasn't sure if zombie dragons could even breathe fire, something about the idea of zombies and fires not mixing well came to mind, but she didn't particularly want to find out. "Get down!" she tackled Franz, knocking him to the ground and out of harm's way as a wave of noxious black gas spewed forth from the dragon. As it struck her, she let out a gasp of surprise and fell back, one hand reaching up to clutch her head.

"What…" she mumbled thickly as she fought to reclaim her feet. Everything appeared… distorted. Wavy. She fumbled for her lance, almost dropping the weapon as she turned to confront the dragon once more.

"What…" she repeated as she staggered forward, her stomach lurching. _What did it do to me?_

* * *

"Amelia!" Franz had started for her when the zombie dragon bellowed again, and Franz turned to fix the offending monster with a stare of cold rage.

The undead beast drew back again, opened its jaws – and was abruptly tackled to the ground by _another_ dragon, this one clad in scales of gold. Myrrh! As Franz watched, she opened her mouth and let loose a blast of energy into the side of the zombie dragon, drawing an enraged cry.

Quickly, Franz turned back to Amelia, whose eyes were swimming in and out of focus as she stumbled forward blindly. Instinctively, he reached out to catch her as she staggered, almost dropping her lance in the process.

"Are you… what happened?"

"Fine…" she waved the question away, the effort at nonchalance ruined by how the words came out slurred and unsteady. "I'm fine."

Franz grimaced and reached inside his satchel for an elixir. Whatever that breath was didn't appear to have caused any physical wounds, but giving it to her couldn't hurt, could it?

Amelia accepted the bottle with a grateful smile, and lifted it to her lips – only for the both of them to realize that her hands were trembling too much to hold the bottle steady. As carefully as he could, he guided her hands to her mouth, letting her drink the clear liquid.

Just then, a bellow of rage sounded behind him, and Franz whirled to confront the zombie dragon once more – it had thrown Myrrh off itself and was now advancing on the two knights again, its remaining eye glaring at them with undisguised malice.

Franz tightened the grip on his weapon, and was about to charge the dragon when another flash of light came from the Demon King – and this time a figure was sent flying through the air to land in a crumpled heap not quite at Franz's feet.

"Sir Joshua!" Franz gaped as her recognized the mercenary.

"Oh… hey," Joshua managed to grin through a mouthful of blood. "Don't worry… not as bad… as it looks."

_That's good, because it looks incredibly bad to me._ Biting his tongue, Franz refocused on the rather more immediate threat of the enraged zombie dragon bearing down on him.

_My weapon isn't doing enough damage, I need something else, something-_ And suddenly his gaze was drawn to the weapon Joshua had been holding, now lying several feet away on the ground.

Audhulma. The Frost Blade.

Throwing himself into a forward dive, Franz cleared the space between himself and the Sacred Weapon. Seizing the blade, his eyes widened in momentary surprise as he felt power flood through his body.

Turning, Franz raised the blade just as the dragon reached him, one claw slashing downwards. Ducking to the side, Franz slashed at the dragon's flesh, leaving a pale blue trail whenever Audhulma cut.

Again he stepped back to avoid a wild attack, again a retaliatory blow. The magic imbued in the weapon was starting to have an effect; the dragon was starting to weaken, if he could just keep this up for a little more-

The massive tail of the dragon whipped around, slamming into the side of Franz's head and sending him crashing to the ground. Even in his disoriented state he managed to keep his grip on the weapon, and he struggled to reclaim his footing as the dragon began to advance once more.

And then there was a shining blur in the air, a wet _thunk!_ of impact, and the zombie dragon reared back with a screech as the lance Amelia had hurled found its target – the dragon's remaining eye. Seizing the opportunity, Franz struck, plunging the blade into the dragon as deep as he could, almost all the way to the hilt.

The dragon gave one more thunderous cry before it collapsed, this time for good. Pulling Audhulma out from the inanimate corpse, Franz turned to see Natasha bathing Joshua in a healing light, finally letting the swordfighter pull himself to his feet.

"Thanks," he said softly to the cleric before turning to face the knight. "Not bad swordplay, Franz. You've gotten better."

"Ah…. Thanks."

"Anytime. Now, if you don't mind – my sword, please?" Somewhat embarrassed, Franz quickly handed Audhulma back to Joshua just as an ear-piercing scream echoed throughout the entire Temple. Whirling, Franz beheld the Demon King as it screamed, one giant arm reaching out to grasp at Lord Ephraim. Even as it did so, the body began to crumble away into ash, the monstrous visage of the Demon King vanishing into nothingness in a matter of seconds.

Silence flooded the chamber once more as the battered and weary warriors contemplated the most recent set of events. Franz drew in a breath. Could it really be…?

Then Lord Ephraim turned to face the others, a radiant expression on his face. With his good arm – the other was hanging limply at his side – he thrust his spear into the air and uttered a single word, "Victory!"

The room erupted into wild applause, as the giddiness and realization of what they had just accomplished – what they had just survived – began to sink in. An exultant smile on his face, Franz hurried over to Amelia.

"Amelia!"

She glanced up at him. "It's… it's over. It's really… over," she said softly.

For some reason, he found himself growing softer as well. "Yeah… it is," he replied. "The fighting's over. No more hurt. No more pain."

She grinned, a shaky smile. "I'm…" she whispered. "I'm so glad…" and then her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor.

He was crouching at her side in a heartbeat. "Amelia!"

She shook her head. "No, it's… I'm okay. Just… that dragon breath took a lot out of me. Need to… rest a bit…"

Franz chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I think we could all use a long rest."

Amelia smiled wearily at him. And then, on some unspoken signal, Franz leaned in closer, one arm reaching up to cradle the back of her forehead and to draw her closer. She didn't resist, reaching up to grasp Franz and pull him closer as well.

And as the jubilant celebrations and cheers continued all around them, the two of them embraced each other as tightly as they could. They were together. They were alive. They had succeeded.

It was over.

* * *

**Chapter End**

* * *

There'll be one more epilogue chapter. Sorry for taking so long. Thank you for reading, please review.


	50. No Longer Alone

No Longer Alone

* * *

Well, here it is. The end. It's been quite a while. Over four and a half years, in fact.

For one last time, I hope you enjoy what I've written for you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

The first thing Franz was aware of was the sunlight streaming in through the window and hitting him in the face. Instinctively he screwed his eyes shut and shifted his gaze away from the golden rays, mumbling a half-hearted groan of protest as he did so.

There was a light chuckle from his side, and this prompted him to blink his eyes open and he found himself looking into Amelia's eyes. She was laughing, a light bubbly sound that made Franz want to smile and laugh himself.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

"'Morning," he mumbled, still in a warm and comforting haze of half-slumber. Then blinked. "Wait, morning? What happened? I thought it was nearly afternoon when we made it out of the temple…"

"It was," she confirmed. "You told me you wanted to take a short breather and the next thing I know you're slumped up against a tree, dead to the world," Amelia laughed again. "We had to carry you back, and I think Forde complained the whole way."

"Wait, back?" ignoring the protest from his muscles, Franz sat up, looking around the opulently decorated room. "Where-"

"Rausten Palace. Where else?" Amelia swept her hand out. "Apparently they decided us soldiers deserved nicer lodgings for all the work we had to go through – st least for the duration of our stay here."

"Wait, wait…" Franz ran a hand through his hair. "That… doesn't make any sense. Rausten Palace is a week from the Black Temple."

"That's right. Guess how long you were out," Amelia turned and took a drink from a cup at her bedside. "Not to say I didn't take a very long nap at the first opportunity myself."

Franz sank back into bed, staring up at the ceiling. A long moment passed before he looked over to Amelia. "So… it's really over."

Her smile widened and leaning over, she grasped his hand tightly. "Yes, it is."

"I thought I told you to tell me when he woke up," came another voice as Forde appeared in the doorway, one eyebrow raised.

"I was just coming to get you," Amelia replied as she turned to face him. "He'd only just gotten up."

"Yeah, I figured," Forde grinned easily as he sauntered over to Franz. "You probably already guessed, but Amelia hasn't left your side ever since we came back from the Temple. Took her meals next to you, slept in the chair over there…"

"Forde," Amelia looked over at him. "I seem to recall you being right there as well most of the time."

"Was I?" the older knight shrugged. "Anyway, how are you feeling, Franz?"

Franz blinked once more, thinking about the question for a moment before he opened his mouth. "Hungry. Famished, even."

His brother grinned. "Thought as much. Comes with not having eaten anything for a week. Well, come on. It's a little past breakfast time, but we shouldn't have any trouble finding some food for you. Lord Joshua's been telling some stories about you, you know. Made you out to be a pretty big hero of the hour."

"Come off it," Franz said lightly as he slipped out of bed, stumbling slightly as he stood to his full height and felt a rush of dizziness wash over him. Instantly he felt Amelia grab onto him, steadying him until he could stand on his own. He gave her a grateful smile which she returned.

"I'm serious. Any two people who can deal with dragons all on their lonesome are going to be pretty respected. Of course it's somewhat overshadowed by Lord Ephraim and Lady Eirika beating the Demon King, but you take what you can get, huh?"

As Forde continued to prattle on about everything and nothing at all, the three of them slowly made their way out of the room, and down the brightly lit corridor.

* * *

The victory celebration was already in full swing by the time Amelia entered the room. She gave a tiny sigh and found herself a drink before retiring to a quiet corner of the grand ballroom, watching as the dance moved on around her.

"There you are," she heard a soft voice to her side and she looked up to see Neimi approaching. Raising her glass in a slight greeting, Amelia smiled back. She'd been doing that a lot lately, she realized.

"How're you feeling?" she questioned softly. In response, the archer glanced down at her right arm, still in a thick cast, and she sighed.

"Actually, it still kinda hurts. I'm not supposed to move it around too much, so I had to sit out the dancing," Neimi shrugged as she settled herself into the seat next to Amelia.

"Well, I don't think Colm would be particularly keen on dancing, anyway." Amelia chuckled. "So I guess you didn't lose much."

"Maybe," Neimi sighed. Then her expression brightened. "But what about you?"

"Me?" Amelia raised her cup to her lips and drank slowly from it.

"Yes, you!" Neimi leaned over, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Why aren't you out there on the dance floor with Franz?"

Amelia shook her head and laughed. "Oh, that. Well, I haven't been able to find Franz at all. Maybe he's not even here." _He did tell me he never liked big crowds._

"Well, that won't do!" Neimi shook her head and stood. "Come on, Amelia, let's go find him!" and ignoring Amelia's half-hearted protest, she dragged her friend to her feet and they set off.

Despite the two girl's best efforts, however, Franz was nowhere to be found in the ballroom. Finally, Amelia spotted Forde by one of the food tables, deep in conversation with one of Pegasus Knights.

"Forde," she asked as soon as she caught his eye. "Have you seen Franz?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Told me he'd be skipping out the party tonight, and that he;d probably spend some time at the Eastern tower. You know where it is, right? You got the tour of the place already."

Flashing a quick smile (and a wink so quick that Amelia almost missed it), Forde turned and walked off, the green haired lady at his side.

Hesitantly, Amelia turned to face Neimi, who smiled and gave her a slight push on the shoulder. "Well, go on," her friend said softly.

"I'll… I guess I'll see you later, then."

As she left the lights and music of the party behind her, Amelia wondered if Franz wanted to be alone right now – after all, he had wandered off on his own. But something kept her moving, kept her heading towards the eastern tower of the palace.

Aside from the odd Rausten guard keeping watch at the doorways, the palace now seemed oddly silent and deserted. As she climbed the polished stone steps, she wondered about why Franz would have come here specifically.

Finally, she was at the top of the tower, and pushing open the door, she saw Franz sitting silently on a stone bench as he stared up at the night sky. It was cloudless, and filled with a dizzying array of stars.

"Hey," she said softly. He turned to face her, a smile on his face.

"Hey," he replied. After a brief pause, he patted the empty spot next to him and Amelia walked over.

"What are you doing?" she questioned as she settled herself next to him. He shrugged.

"Just… stargazing. And thinking."

"What about?" almost unconsciously, she sidled up closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body.

He didn't reply immediately, but one hand reached over to grasp hers. The two of them sat, silent, for a long while, and then Franz let out a long breath of air.

"Amelia, where will you – what are you going to do after this?"

The lancer closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. "After this… I want to go see my mother. It's been so long time since I last saw her," she smiled past the growing tightness in the back of her throat. "Even my memory of what she looked like is kinda fuzzy right now."

"I see," Franz nodded slowly.

She hesitated for a brief moment. 'But, don't worry, Franz."

"Don't worry?" he repeated, turning to look at her.

"After that… after I've seen my mother, after I've made sure she'd all right… I'm coming to Renais. To stay in, I mean. I'm still not entirely sure of what my path in life is going to be," she looked up, gazing deeply into his eyes. "But well, I know I want to walk it by your side."

His smile widened. "That's good to hear."

Amelia frowned. "Franz?" she questioned. There was something he wasn't telling her…

"I've talked to General Seth. He gave me permission to take a leave from absence away from my duties as a knight. Amelia, when you go to see your mother… would you let me come with you?"

She stared at him, mouth open for several long seconds. And then she found herself tackling him in a hug and holding him tightly to her.

"I'll take that as a yes," came his slightly amused voice.

Still clinging on to him, Amelia shook her head. "How did you know?"

"Well, Ewan helped me confirm it, but…" a moment later she felt Franz reach up to caress the back of her head. "Did you really think I didn't know you well enough to guess what you'd want to do?"

Forgoing any real response, Amelia simply closed her eyes and continued to embrace Franz, luxuriating in the feeling of warmth and safety she had in his presence.

* * *

"Franz."

Upon hearing the voice of his mentor, Franz quickly stopped tightening the straps of Sophia's saddle and turned to face Seth, saluting crisply as he did so. The Silver Knight returned the salute, smartly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Amelia exchanging fond (and tearful) farewells with Neimi, along with promises to visit each other soon.

"General."

"I assume you'll be leaving soon."

"Yes, sir," Franz glanced over at his packs. "Everything that we need to load is on Sophia and Fort already. I planned on leaving once Amelia finished saying her goodbyes."

"Indeed," Seth nodded slightly. "Very well, Sir Franz. Be sure to take this time to rest and recuperate. There'll be plenty of work waiting for you once you get back to the capital."

"I know, General. I'll see you soon." With another salute, the general turned and departed, leaving Franz to finish his job of securing the supplies. He had just about finished when he felt another heavy hand on his shoulder.

He turned. "Forde?"

His elder brother smirked down at him. "I just wanted to tell you… well, take care. And enjoy yourself."

Franz chuckled. "It's not like I'll be travelling alone," he pointed out. "Aside from Amelia, Ewan and the rest of his mercenary troop are going to Caer Paelyn and we'll be travelling the same path for a while. And General Duessel and the remainder of the Grad forces will be on the same road, even if we're not setting out together."

"Yeah, I know," Forde's smile was crooked. "Hey, when you meet Amelia's mom, make sure you're on your best behaviour. Wouldn't want your future mother-in-law to get a bad impression, would we?"

Franz rolled his eyes, and at that moment Amelia came up beside him. "You ready?" she questioned, a cheerful grin on her face. Franz nodded in response.

Within seconds, both of them had mounted their respective horses. As they turned to head down the main road, Franz paused and turned back to his brother.

"See you."

Forde nodded once. "Yeah… see you."

* * *

The first leg of their journey was taken leisurely, with Ewan and his taciturn master accompanying them throughout most of the way. Ewan, having travelled extensively, was able to point out many landmarks and sightseeing spots, now that there was no fear of having to rush down to the next battle. It was in such a manner, with frequent rest stops and breaks, that they made their way south.

"We'll be nearing the border soon," Ewan said one day as they left the latest inn. "Just a couple more days, at the latest."

"Oh," Amelia said, feeling oddly muted. "And then off to your home in Caer Paelyn."

"Yeah, I haven't seen grandma in ages, Ewan smiled as he looked west, in the direction of the great mountain ranges. "She's going to want to hear all about the journey. Both the good and the bad," he concluded as he glanced backwards at the Myrrh, who was at Saleh's side.

The loss of her father (one of the dragons that had been guarding the Black Temple) had affected her deeply, and she'd grown even more quiet and reticent than usual. Amelia hung her head and closed her eyes. Some wounds were not so easily healed, even at the end of a war.

"Hey," Ewan said softly, bringing her attention back to the present.

"What is it?"

He grinned a sideways grin at her. "Are you going to miss me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ewan."

"Hey, I'm serious this time," Ewan gazed back to the mountains. "Once I go back there, Master Saleh's told me that we'll begin the next phase of my training; it'll require a complete devotion of my time and energy. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" he shrugged. "I don't know how long it'll be before I can come visit you. Could be years, in fact. So… will you miss me?"

She nodded, keeping her eye on the road ahead of her. "Of course I will. But I think you're missing something here, Ewan."

"What?"

"Nothing's stopping me from visiting _you_," she grinned at him. "I've never seen the peaks of Caer Paelyn – it sounds like it'd be fun for a little trip.

The young mage smiled. "Yeah, I guess that'd be nice. Nothing beats having a guest come into your home, after all."

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

Several days later, as the two knights prepared to part ways with the mercenaries, Amelia rode up beside Ewan. "Hey, Ewan."

"Hm?"

"Thanks for everything."

The redheaded mage flashed her a cocky grin. "You're welcome. And thank _you_." He turned, taking several steps after his departing sister. And then he paused and turned back to Amelia. "See you soon!" his voice sounded across the plains towards her.

She remained there, waving at his retreating figure until it vanished beyond the horizon.

And then it was just the two of them. She glanced over and saw Franz, likewise mounted, that gentle smile still on his face.

There was a short silence between the two of them. And then Franz gestured with his shoulder down the path. "Shall we?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes, let's."

* * *

It took nearly a week for them to finally reach the village. Most of the journey was spent in a comfortable silence, either of them only occasionally commenting on the scenery or other trivial information.

Finally, they stood in front of the organized collection of houses, and Franz glanced over at Amelia. "This is the correct village?"

"According to General Duessel… yeah," Amelia nodded, swallowed. All of a sudden Amelia looked like a nervous child. "This is… this is the place."

"Well then, shall we?" he questioned softly. Amelia merely nodded.

As they progressed through the village, Franz could feel the stares and hear the whispered mutterings from all around the two of them. Apparently visits by knights wasn't a particularly common occurrence – rarer still for one of the knights to be showing the sigil of Renais on his tunic.

"There," Amelia pointed to a house near the edge of the settlement. "That's the one."

As they both dismounted their mounts, Franz noted that Amelia's trepidation only appeared to be getting worse. Reaching over, he gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and she gave a grateful nod in response. Taking another deep breath, she walked over and rapped once on the edge of the doorway.

There was silence for a long moment, and then in the doorway appeared a woman with dishevelled blonde hair and a weary look in her eyes. Franz heard the breath and catch in Amelia's throat for a long moment.

"Good – good evening, madam," Amelia spoke, trying to keep her voice steady. "By any chance, might your name be Melina?"

The woman was staring at Amelia now, a puzzled frown on her face, but she nodded once in response.

"I – my name is Amelia," she said. "And I… could you be… are you… my mother?"

The woman's eyes widened, and she peered even more closely at Amelia's face, and Franz could see the exact moment that recognition dawned.

"Amelia!" and suddenly the two of them were hugging each other, arms wrapped tight across the other's body, eyes closed, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

"Mom," was all that Amelia managed to squeeze out before she buried her head in her mother's shoulder. The woman – Melina – didn't say anything, simply holding her daughter close for the first time in nearly a decade.

After a long moment, Franz turned to grasp the reins of Sophia and Fort, leading them away to be stabled, leaving mother and daughter to the privacy of their long overdue reunion.

* * *

"Mom, this is Franz," Amelia gestured towards him and he bowed slightly in greeting. "He – he saved my life countless times during the war."

"What? Don't be ridicu-"

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him," she continued, speaking smoothly over his protest. Melina turned towards the obviously uncomfortable knight.

"Sir, thank you so much for what you have done."

"Please, I –" Franz shook his head. "Every time I saved Amelia she would end up repaying the favour sooner or later. You don't owe me any thanks. Really."

"Is that so? Well, I want to hear all about it – but this tale doesn't look like we can finish it while standing around doing nothing. Come on in, dinner's almost ready."

"Uh, we brought our own rations-"

"Nonsense. The general has provided very well for me, and I'm sure that whatever I have in my stock is better than army rations," Melina spread her arms invitingly. "It's the least I can do."

Amelia smiled at Franz and shook her head. "Franz would be delighted to accept, mom."

Her mother's cooking was just as good as she had remembered. As she leaned back in her stool against the wall of the house, listening to her mother question Franz – for the third time – on the details of how the two of them had first met up, Amelia closed her eyes and let out a long, low sigh of contentment.

Later that night, as the two of them made their way back to the village inn – her mother would have let them stay over but there simply wasn't enough room in her simple house, Amelia shook her head. She was aware that she still had a humongous smile on her face that seemed to refuse to go away, but she didn't really care much about that – a warm fuzzy haze of bliss that enveloped her seemed to make things like that matter very much at all.

"Full moon tonight," she heard Franz's observation, and she pulled to a halt, staring at the night sky like he was.

"Anything special about the full moon?"

"No, not really," Franz shook his head. "There's just this old Renaitian tradition…"

"Really. What's it about?"

"They say that a love that blossoms under the full moon will never wither," Franz shrugged, as if that statement were of no consequence.

Amelia shook her head. "Franz, even if you put any stock in Old Wives' tales like that, it's… well, I'm not sure when it happened, but I love you. I've loved you for a while now. It certainly didn't start tonight," it felt strange, hearing those words slip out from her mouth so easily, after she had agonized about it so often during their journey. But that was how Franz was, she supposed. Whenever he was with her, all her anxieties and doubts always seemed to fade.

He smiled that gentle smile she loved so much at her. "I know. I love you too. But… well, during the dinner, when your mother was making me talk about how we met, I remembered."

"Remembered what?" she raised an eyebrow.

"That night, when I came to visit you in that room… it was a full moon too."

The smile on Amelia's face widened as he turned to face her. Slowly, on some unspoken signal, the two of them leaned in closer. Amelia closed her eyes as their lips met, feeling a rush of sensation and emotion surge through her.

Finally, the two of them broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away, Amelia tightened her embrace around Franz and lowered her head to rest on his shoulder, eyes closed, her breathing steady, and a small smile on her face as she luxuriated once more in the feeling of warmth.

After everything, after all the fighting and pain and fear and danger and injury, after all that… they were together now. For all the hurt and pain she'd received, what she'd found during the fighting was something she would never give up for the world.

Friends.

Family.

And love.

She was no longer alone.

* * *

**Story End**

* * *

Well…. That's that. My longest work to date, in terms of chapters, wordcount, and time spent on this thing. To any of you who stuck it out with me from the beginning… thanks.

So, what's next? Actually, I'm planning a sort-of sequel for this story. It'll be much, much shorter than this, and it's going to centre around the great quake and how our two favourite knights react and respond to it. Time will tell whether or not this idea comes to fruition.

Regardless, for one last time, thank you for reading. And please review.


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